


In The Chaos

by lady_and_lemoncakes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, PTSD, is that a thing?, slowburn happiness, they're all a hotmess express
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_and_lemoncakes/pseuds/lady_and_lemoncakes
Summary: The modern au I've wanted to write for years. Originally posted the first short chapter on tumblr for 12 days of shipping back in January.  Continuing it there, as well as here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is super fluffy, and I love it. I'm going to post the second chapter right after I post this one, because I have it written. It is lacking in fluff. Title is inspired by an Attiicus quote I saw used with an amazing edit on tumblr by throne-of-games.

The last person she expects to see at this party is Jon Snow. The Jon she remembers hates parties, and hates New Year’s Eve. Which, Sansa has always found odd, considering it’s his birthday. 

At first, she stands in the doorway, unsure if it is him. His back is to her, and his hair is longer than she ever remembers it being. She looks him up and down, appreciating the definition of muscle beneath his sweater and jeans. This was not the Jon she said goodbye to after his basic training graduation. She’d recognize that voice anywhere, though, and Fort Black is not far from Queenscrown University. 

“Jon?” Sansa says tentatively, moving closer. He turns, and it’s him. Jon Snow: honorary Stark, and the unrequited love of Sansa’s life since she was twelve. He posts more pictures of his dog than himself, but she recognizes the beard and scars from the pictures she has seen. Gods help her, she likes the beard. 

“Sans?” He regards her with pure bewilderment, and before she can fully process the shock of it actually being him, he’s pulled her into a hug. She relishes in the closeness, and does not realize she is nuzzling her face shamelessly in the beard she likes so much until she feels the burn against her cheek. She opens her eyes to Gilly and Sam staring at them. “It’s been too long.” 

“It has.” She reluctantly pulls away, still warm from the embrace. “Happy birthday!” 

“Thank you,” Jon smiles meekly, “and thank you for all the care packages.” 

“Yes, thank you.” Sam chuckles. “You’re quite the baker.” 

“I wore a hat and scarf you made me tonight.” Jon adds, and he’s so adorably awkward Sansa could hug him again. Not that she needs much of a reason, but it touches her heart that he wears the things she has made for him, and she has missed him terribly. She’d cried herself to sleep when he joined The Watch, and worried herself sick each time he was deployed. It is so good to see him again.

“You’re all very welcome.” Sansa tries not to stare, but it’s been three long years since she’s seen him. Whatever The Watch has its Rangers do to keep so fit, she approves. 

“Robb said you started at Queenscrown.” Jon shakes his head, and sips his drink. She wonders if his head is spinning as much as hers. “How have you been?” 

“Great.” Sansa nods. Her first semester was challenging, and she’d been stressed about maintaining her scholarship, but she’d done it. “You should try to make it down to Winterfell sometime. We all really miss you.” 

“I’ve missed you all too.” Jon sighs. “Did you have a nice Christmas?” 

“We did.” Sansa pulls out her phone, and shows him a picture. “Here we all are in front of the tree.” 

“Gods, is that Rickon?” Jon laughs with a fondness in his eyes. Rickon was only four when Jon moved in, and he became quite attached to Jon. “He’s getting so tall.” 

“He’s ten now.” Sansa leans against the counter. “Trying to convince Robb to let him play rugby.” 

“I feel sorry for anyone on the pitch with him.” 

“Me too.” Sansa agrees. “How was your Christmas?”

“It was good, Sans.” He nods. “I spent it with Sam and Gilly. How do you know each other?” 

“Sociology lecture.” Gilly answers. “Something to drink, Sans?” 

Gilly emphasizes the nickname that hardly anyone calls her. Gilly certainly hasn’t heard her called that, and Jon just had, twice. It would warrant an explanation. 

“Let’s go make sure Pyp is alright.” Sam takes Jon by the shoulder, and leads him out of the kitchen. 

“So, you know Jon.” Gilly pours her a drink. 

“His father was in my father’s guard.” Sansa explains. “He lived with us for years before he joined The Watch.” 

“And you’ve been in love with him since...” 

“I’m not in love with him.” Sansa scoffs, very unconvincingly. “Is he handsome? Yes. Do I have extremely complicated feelings for him? Yes. He’s...Jon. It’s hard to explain.” 

“Not really.” 

“Fine.” Sansa sips her drink. “I love him, and it broke my heart into tiny heart pieces when he left. Satisfied?” 

“Seems the universe has brought you back together. If only it were a holiday where people had an excuse to kiss each other.” Gilly snorts, holding up her glass. 

“I’m not kissing Jon.” Sansa is adamant. “Everyone would think it’s really weird.” 

“I wouldn’t.” Gilly shrugs. “I saw you two while you hugged. It was precious.” 

“My family would think it’s weird.” Sansa tells her. She’s sure of it.  

“Who cares?” A lot of people would care. They used to joke about it, but that was when they were younger. “They’d get over it. Tell me you didn’t apply to Queenscrown because it’s close to Fort Black.” 

“It’s a very good school.” 

“Kiss him at midnight.” Gilly suggests with a laugh. “Don’t make me get the mistletoe.” 

Mistletoe, what an excellent idea. She enjoys the party, catches up with Jon. She’ll admit it, she flirts. He does too. At least she thinks he does. You can never tell with Jon. 

A few minutes before midnight, she excuses herself from the couch where they’re sitting. She returns with thirty seconds until the new year. She sits closer to him, and holds up the mistletoe she’d taken from the entryway. He smiles, and kisses her at midnight. They continue kissing well after midnight. 

“Happy New Year.” She squeezes his hand when they manage to pull away from each other. 

“Happy New Year.” He squeezes her hand in return. “Ghost hates fireworks. I should go check on him. Would you like to join me?” 

“I would love to."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The backstory no one asked for. I'm sorry.

Jon moved into the Prime Minister’s residence during the hottest summer Westeros had seen in decades. It did not faze Jon much, having spent most of his life on Lys. The Starks, however, were not as accustomed to the relentless heat. 

They had been so excited about the trip to King’s Landing too. 

Unfortunately, it’s a horrid city in the heat. It’s crowded, and it smells. It actually made Jon appreciate Lys, and Jon rarely felt fond of Lys. Anywhere would be better than the crowded courtyard in front of the new library being dedicated at Blackwater University. 

The library was the whole reason for their trip to King’s Landing. Prime Minister Stark was dedicating the brand new building, and the entire family was tagging along, which meant Jon’s father and Jon were as well. It was their first trip to King’s Landing, ever, and it was a big deal. All the stops were brought out. King Robert would attend the dedication, and there would be a fancy luncheon afterward. The Queen planned a formal ball. Sansa was ridiculously excited about that, and practiced dancing with anyone who would give her a few minutes of their time. Jon’s father bought him a grey suit that Sansa said looked handsome on him. Jon did not feel like the motherless boy from Lys sitting on stage beside the Starks that day. 

Three hours later, the novelty had worn off. All of them were sweaty and miserable. The courtyard was completely uncovered, and there was nothing to cast shade or protect them from roasting in the sun. They stared offstage, disinterested.  

Jon was wondering which would come first: death from his brain literally melting, or the end of this dedication ceremony. It seemed likely he would succumb to heat stroke first, when Rickon smacks him in the face with the coloring book Sansa had desperately been trying to keep him interested in. 

“Rickon, you know better.” Sansa scolded him, and the little boy moved to strike Jon again, and Sansa took hold of his arm. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Rickon struggled against his sister, and Jon couldn’t contain his amusement. The original plan had been for Mrs. Stark to sit with them all stage right, but the organizer of the event had wanted her standing beside her husband. So, Rickon took advantage. As if sensing the shenanigans, Mrs. Stark turns, and sends a look over her shoulder that instantly settles Rickon. Again, Jon laughed, but part of him felt as if he should sit straighter and behave himself. 

“Don’t encourage him.” Sansa sighed, and kissed Rickon’s temple. “We do not hit.” 

“We do not hit.” Rickon stuck his tongue out, and mocked Sansa. 

“You could!” He heard Bran and Arya arguing at the end of the row. Growing up without siblings, he often wondered what it would have been like to have some. The Starks gave him an idea, and sometimes they made him grateful for those years of peace and quiet. 

“You could not!” Arya was adamant. About what, he had no idea. “It’s too high of a jump. You could not survive it.” 

“No one is jumping off of anything.” Robb shook his head, and rolled his eyes in frustration. It was unlikely that anyone in the audience could hear them, but they could see them. It was Robb’s job to keep them in line, and he was _**trying.**_

“It’s so hot.” Bran whined. “The ocean is right there!” 

“No, and by no, I mean absolutely not.” Robb snapped at them quickly, and crossed his arms. This was a very different Robb than they were all used to. “Arya’s right. It’s too high of a jump. You’d get hurt.”

“Did you hear that?” Arya looked triumphantly at Bran. “I’m right.”  

“I don’t care if I’d get hurt.” Bran groaned. “I really don’t. It’d be worth it.” 

“Please, shut up and behave.” Robb told them. “We’ll all feel better after lunch.”

“I’ll feel better when we’re back home.” Arya decided, fidgeting with her dress. She had been the least excited about the trip from the moment they heard about it. 

“Tomorrow, little sister.” Robb lifted her chin, and she smiled. 

“Thank the gods.” Bran yawned, and stretched his legs out in front of him. 

“Thank the gods.” Rickon imitated his brother. 

“Sit up, Bran.” Robb pushed Bran’s feet back with his own. Bran mumbled, and did as he was told when loud pops echoed through the courtyard. Prime Minister Stark pulled his wife down behind the podium, and Jon felt a pull on his collar. He is led to the floor, and his father guides him to safety. They were all being escorted behind stage, near the library entrance. 

“Stay here.” His father told him breathlessly, and went back for the Prime Minister and his wife. 

He stared at King Robert on the ground, while the gunfire continued.  

“Are you alright?” His father placed a hand on the back of Jon’s head, and asked while the Starks embraced. No, he was not alright.

It was decided that they would go into the library to take cover. His father and Jory entered first, followed by The Starks. Soon after the Prime Minister walks through the doors, Jon feels the force of a train knock him off his feet, and send him flying backwards. He could feel an intense heat. An explosion had leveled the new building to the ground. 

He was momentarily dazed, numb to the muffled sound of screams and gunfire around him. It was difficult to see anything through the smoke, but he saw Arya running towards the flaming rubble, and grabs her.

“Let me go.” Arya wailed. Tears were leaving streaks in the dirt on her face. “Let me go! I want to go!”

“No!” Jon shouted. “It isn’t safe.”

He carried her, kicking and screaming to where Sansa, Rickon, and Robb were huddled over Bran. Sansa was sobbing into Robb's shoulder, and holding Rickon tightly to her. He noticed the blood staining Bran’s shirt, and so did Arya. Arya ran to her siblings. Bran didn’t move at his sister’s pleas, but Jon heard him cry out in pain.

“It’s okay.” Robb whispered to Bran. “You’re going to be okay.” 

“There’s a hospital a few blocks west.” Jon remembered, and it was all Robb needed to hear before nodding and picking Bran up off the ground. 

Jon led them through the smokey streets toward where he believed the hospital to be, with Arya clutching his hand. The city had been thrown into complete chaos. It was fortunate that the hospital was closer than Jon had originally thought. 

Robb sprinted at the sight of the emergency sign, and rushed Bran in. He was placing Bran on a stretcher when Jon and the other Starks run into the waiting room. 

“I’m going back with Bran.” Robb ordered. “You all wait here.” 

“I want to go with Bran!” Arya cried, furious. 

“Me too!” Rickon agreed, dangerously close to full on tantrum. 

“Listen to Sansa and Jon.” Robb left them to follow the nurses wheeling Bran away on the stretcher. 

“I want Bran!” Rickon screamed, unable to process what was happening. 

“Bran needs you to wait out here.” Sansa explains sweetly. “We’re going to sit here, and wait until we can see him.”

“I can’t sit!” Rickon screamed, somehow louder.

“You can.” Jon could hear the exasperation in Sansa’s voice. 

“I had an accident.” Rickon cried softly then, wrapping his arms around her. “I didn’t know I was having one. I was scared.” 

“It’s okay.” Sansa gently smoothed his curls, and looked to Jon. “I don’t have a change of clothes for him.” 

“Maybe they’d let him use a gown or something.” Jon shrugged. “I’ll go ask.” 

“Excuse me,” Jon said through the window at the triage desk, “do you have something the little boy over there could change into?” 

“I’ll see what I can find.” The nurse smiled. “The boy that was just brought back. You’re his family?”

“They are.” Jon answered. “My father works for theirs.” 

“You don’t have to wait out here.” She pushed a button, and the double doors beside the desk opened. Jon motioned to Sansa for them to join him. The young nurse met them at the doors, and led them to a more private waiting area. She brought clothes for Rickon, and washcloths for them to all get cleaned up. “There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall, on the left. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.” 

Jon had never been more grateful to anyone in his life. This room felt less exposed, safer. He read the name in bold lettering on her badge. Brienne. He would not forget her, or her kindness. 

There is only one bathroom, so they clean up together. It felt good to wash the dirt and sweat off of his face, and Sansa turned away blushing when he began unbuttoning his dress shirt. He laughed, knowing he had an undershirt on. He shook the glass and debris out of his dress shirt, and placed it in the plastic bag with Rickon's suit. 

“Can we go to Bran now?” 

“Not yet.” Jon knelt down to tie the boy’s shoes. “Robb will let us know.” 

It wasn’t long before Robb joined them in the waiting room. “He has to have surgery. Then they’re going to transfer him to the children’s hospital.” 

Robb falls into the chair beside Arya. “He couldn’t feel his legs. He couldn’t move them.” 

The wait while Bran was in surgery was excruciating. They kept having to change the channel on the television, because news stories kept reminding them what had happened. Similar events had happened all over King’s Landing that afternoon. At the hotel the Starks were staying.  At the restaurant where the luncheon was supposed to be. At the hall that was going to hold the ball that evening. It was terrifying. Jon kept hoping his father would surprise him, and walk into the room, but with every hour that passed, it became less and less likely. He had seen him go into the library, and he had seen the library fall. 

“I’m hungry.” Rickon broke hours of silence when he woke from a nap. 

None of them had eaten since that morning. They simply hadn’t felt like it. They found the fridge Brienne told them about, and took what they believed they could stomach. 

“Chocolate pudding is Bran’s favorite.” Rickon said sadly, as he stirred his with his spoon.

“Bran can have all the chocolate pudding he wants once he’s feeling better.” Sansa tapped him on the end of his nose with her finger. 

“Are they fixing Bran’s legs?” Arya wondered, not touching much of her food. 

“He needs his legs. He wants to be a ninja.” 

“I don’t know.” Robb shrugged, picking at the juice carton in front of him. “They said he’s going to need specialists, and rehabilitation. That’s why they’re transferring him.” 

“The specialists will fix his legs.” Arya decided, and they continued to wait. 

Bran stabilized after surgery, and they piled into an ambulance to be taken to the children’s hospital. Bran was still pretty out of it, Jon remembers, but it was good to be with him. 

They spent time with Bran once he’s settled in his room, and an advocate from social services introduced himself, and told them that accommodations were made for them at the hotel across the street from the hospital. He would be in the next room if they needed anything. When Robb began to fight to stay with Bran, Davos patiently understood, and let him stay. 

Davos showed them to their room, and there were clothes on the beds. 

Jon looked at him strangely. “Donations. Brienne told us roughly what sizes you’d need. I hope they fit alright. I’ll be next door.” 

Sansa persuaded Rickon into the bath, and they answered Arya’s millions of questions. Sansa told Rickon a story from memory while she brushed Arya's hair. Jon must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he remembers is waking up in the chair by the balcony window, with a blanket over him. The room was dark. Arya and Rickon were alseep in one of the beds, and Sansa was crying beside them. Her back was to him, but he could hear her. He wasn’t sure if he should comfort her, or pretend to still be asleep. He decided he could not let her cry alone.

Jon pushed the blanket off of him, and startled her when he softly touched her back. 

“Sorry.” He backed off when she turned to see who it was that was touching her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She sniffed, and he moved to lie down in the other bed when she turned and grabbed his wrist. “What’s going to happen?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“This morning I was worried about which shoes I was going to wear to the ball.” She sighed, and he squeezed her hand. “It all seems so stupid now.” 

“It isn’t stupid to be excited about something that’s supposed to be fun.” Jon told her. “I liked the silver shoes you showed us. The glittery ones.” 

“I was going to wear those ones.” Sansa laughed. “They’re gorgeous. I love them. I’ll probably never see them again. I’ll never see my parents again. And Bran! Bran may never walk...”

They had not officially been told about their parents, but they knew in their hearts what had become of them. 

“Let’s get some air.” Jon suggested, and led her out to the balcony. Arya and Rickon remained peacefully asleep while Sansa took some calming breaths. She wrapped her arms around his closest, and held him. It took him by surprise, how comforting it was. 

“I hate this place.” She stared out at King’s Landing with scorn. “It took everything from me.” 

“I hated it before it ruined my life,” Jon shrugged, and she rests her head against his, “and I lived on Lys.” 

“It is pretty awful.” Sansa laughed. “I want to go home.” 

Was home even home anymore, Jon wondered. 

“As soon as Bran is stronger.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to abandon this modern au, so after months of struggling to write it, here’s the 3rd chapter.
> 
> It was hell to write, which is probably why it took me so long. This story is not the usual fluff fest I write, but it’s something I really want to tell. I hope you all enjoy!

Sansa tossed and turned for hours, before sitting outside on the balcony. Every time she drifted off to sleep, nightmares quickly found her. Being awake brought no solace. Every horrible thing that happened the day before was brought to the forefront of her mind - King Robert sprawled out on the stage floor, the explosion, Bran bloody and wailing in pain. She watched a couple of birds roost on the railing in front of her, and wished she could wake up in her bed at home to find out none of it ever happened. She wished she and her family could fly like birds, far away from King’s Landing. 

 

 

 

The door opened, and Rickon snuggled up next to her in the chair. “Arya and Jon are snoring.”

 

“Did you get any sleep?” She held him, and kissed his head. Arya had been downright fitful in her sleep, kicking and crying out. It was awful. She’d hoped Rickon and Jon had slept better. 

 

“A little.” Rickon mused, and then remembered, “I need to tell you something!” 

 

“I’m listening.” 

 

“There’s a pool!” There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Their father’s eyes. He’d had a stern face, but his eyes were kind. Sansa had seen that same playful look in their father’s eyes many times. He used to chase them around, pretending he couldn’t catch them. He loved the snow. Sansa remembers many days in the snow building forts, and throwing snowballs. He helped them with homework, and built the treehouse in the backyard with Jory. He was always willing to listen to her stories, even if they were ridiculous. He loved goofing around with Rickon. He affectionately called Robb his protégé, and bragged about him often. He bragged about all of them to the point of embarrassment, actually. Arya was the best at making him laugh. She hardly even had to try. Eddard Stark would be remembered as a beloved Prime Minister, but he was so much more. He was their father, and they were his pride and joy. She already missed him more than she could bear. She was trying to not think of their mother or father, it was too painful, but Rickon’s eyes betrayed her. “I saw it on a sign!”

 

“Did you?”

 

“P-o-o-l.” He spelt, and Sansa’s heart swelled with love for her innocent, baby brother. Rickon was too small to fathom the events of yesterday. One day, he may only vaguely remember this ever happened, she hoped, and envied him. Sansa was jealous until she realized if he vaguely remembers yesterday, he’ll only vaguely remember their parents. She felt tears stinging her eyes, and pushed them back. For Rickon. They would remember for him. “I know what that spells.” 

 

“It does, in fact, spell pool.” 

 

“Do you want to go find it?” He grinned with excitement. Too much excitement for how early it was. “Do you think it has a slide?”

 

“We’ll have to see.” She smiled at him. “After Jon and Arya wake up.” 

 

“Sleepy heads.” Rickon sighed, resting against her. “Sa, is Bran okay?”

 

Sansa was a difficult name for Arya to say when she was leaning to speak, so she became Sa to her little sister, and eventually to Bran and Rickon as well. 

 

“He was very hurt.” She doesn’t even know where to begin to explain a spinal cord injury to a toddler. “He’ll be in the hospital for a while.” 

 

“Can he go swimming with us?” He wondered, playing with the sleeves of his baggy shirt. “He likes swimming.”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“We don’t have to go swimming.” Rickon nodded. “Tell me a story about The Brave Prince? Please?”

 

“Sure.” She agreed, and he smiled up at her. The adventures of The Brave Prince were a favorite of Rickon’s. She spun a tale of the prince’s heroics on the island of Skagos, and Rickon was content to listen. 

 

“I miss Mommy and Daddy.” He whispered when the story was finished. “I miss Bran and Robb.” 

 

“We can go see Robb and Bran.” Sansa squeezed him. “We’ll wake the others, and Mr. Seaworth, and we’ll go be with them.” 

 

“Mommy and Daddy too?” He plead, breaking her heart. She has no answer. 

 

“I don’t know, sweet boy.” She shrugged, tears streaming down her face. 

 

“I don’t understand.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Understand what?” 

 

“Why.” Rickon rasped. “Why would someone hurt them? I’m angry, Sa. So angry someone hurt them. Hurt all those people. I don’t understand. Help me understand.”

 

She wished she knew how. 

 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there are horrible people in this world.” Sansa frowns. She truly did hate it. Gone was the hope that Rickon would escape this hell unscathed. She wept for the carefree boy who sat next to her on that stage. She wept for Arya and Bran, and their silly arguments. She wept for Robb, who thought he’d only be in charge for a couple hours. She wept for Jon, who didn’t know it was the last time he’d see his father. None of them knew. She wept for the girl who’d been excited about dancing at a ball. She wept for them all.  “Don’t be one of them.” 

 

“I’ll try.” Rickon sniffed. “I don’t like being angry. I want to be brave, like the prince. Like Daddy, and everyone else. You’re all real brave.”

 

“You are too.” 

 

“I don’t feel brave.” He hung his head. “I cried, and wanted mommy.” 

 

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t brave.” Sansa swore. “The Brave Prince cries, and I’m sure there were times he wished his mother was there.” 

 

“My angry is big.” 

 

“It will get smaller.” She promised, but she wasn’t so sure Rickon believed her. Jon opened the door slightly, and popped his head out. 

 

“Davos is here, and he’s brought your uncle.” 

 

It had to be Uncle Benjen, Sansa knew. She’d never even met Uncle Brandon, or Uncle Edmure. They were off somewhere, living their own busy lives. Uncle Benjen was the uncle she knew. Her breath caught in her throat. She doesn’t want to think about why Uncle Benjen would travel all the way from Fort Black. 

 

He was holding Arya up in a hug, and Rickon ran to wrap his small arms around his leg. Uncle Benjen waved her and Jon over to join in the embrace. He had only met Jon once before, but that was no matter to Uncle Benjen. She found herself crying again. How, she didn’t know. Her entire body was exhausted, emotionally and physically.

 

They clean up, and dress before eating a quick breakfast. Uncle Benjen convinced Arya to at least eat some toast, despite her claims that she wasn’t hungry. Mr. Seaworth entertained Rickon with stories from his days in the Merchant Navy. 

 

“He fought pirates!” Rickon turned around while they’re walking to hospital to tell Sansa. It was a relief to see him smiling again, acting more like himself. It was good to hear him laugh. “Why don’t you work on the ships anymore?”

 

“I wanted to be home with my children more.” 

 

It saddened Sansa to know that he wasn’t with those children right now. 

 

“You have kids?” Rickon gazed up at him with wonder. “How many?” 

 

“Seven.” 

 

“Whoa! That’s a lot of kids.” Rickon made Mr. Seaworth chuckle. “Can we meet them? Is their Mommy taking care of them?”

 

“She is.” Mr. Seaworth smiled down at him. “They’d all love to meet you.” 

 

Bran was working with a physical therapist when they arrived. He was excited to see Uncle Benjen, but Robb’s face went white. He must have assumed what Sansa had. He’s here because their parents are dead. 

 

The therapist stretching Bran excused herself, and Uncle Benjen sighed. “Robb, I need to speak with you. Privately.” 

 

Robb shook his head defiantly, and remained beside Bran. It wasn’t fair to put the burden on Robb, Sansa thought. He shouldn’t have to hear the worst news in his entire life without them. 

 

Sansa spoke the words he must be struggling to find. “Please, just tell us.” 

 

“You all know what happened to that library.” Uncle Benjen sat in the chair beside Bran’s bed. “You all know your parents were inside it. Bear with me, this isn’t easy. I’ve been where you are. You’re going to feel alone, but you aren’t. None of you.” 

 

Sansa thought of Jon, leaning quietly against the wall. She never heard him mention any other family besides his father. 

 

“They’re dead.” Arya’s lip quivered, and Uncle Benjen nodded sadly. 

 

“Who?” Rickon looked to his older siblings for answers. Bran shifted uncomfortably in the bed. Sansa offered to help, but he waved her off.

 

“Mom and Dad.” 

 

“Mommy and Daddy?” Rickon choked. “Like Bugs?” 

 

Bugs was the rabbit Bran had found hurt in the forrest, and they had tried to save. He didn’t make it. They buried him under a weirwood. Rickon loved that rabbit. He was the one who named him. “Don’t put them in a box like Bugs! I don’t want Mommy and Daddy in a box!”

 

“It’s okay, Rickon.” Robb picked the small boy up, and rubbed his back. “We won’t put them in a box.” 

 

“What’s going to happen?” Bran wondered, cringing in pain as he slowly moved.

 

“Remember what they said about not letting the pain get too bad.” Robb told him. “Do you need the nurse?”

 

“I do not need the nurse.” Bran glared. “I need to know what’s going to happen to us.” 

 

“Your parents named your Uncle Brandon as your guardian.” Mr. Seaworth shared. “He’s in Braavos at the moment, but he’ll be here as soon as he can.” 

 

“Uncle Brandon?” Robb questioned, confused. “I haven’t seen him since I was younger than Rickon. He’s never even met them. He hasn’t cared to.” 

 

“Be that as it may...”

 

“We are not moving to Braavos.” Robb told Mr. Seaworth and Uncle Benjen. 

 

“You aren’t.” Uncle Benjen agreed. “I’ve spoken with Brandon, and he’s making arrangements to move to Winterfell.” 

 

“What about Jon?” Sansa couldn’t help but worry about him. 

 

“Him and I will discuss that.” Mr. Seaworth answers coolly. 

 

“It doesn’t really matter, Davos.” Jon shrugged. “They can know. I don’t have any uncles or aunts or grandparents. I might have a couple years to get my life together, but I’m on my own.”

 

“Boy, did I not just tell you you’re not alone?” Uncle Benjen stared at him, and Jon crossed his arms.

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but...” 

 

“Everything before the word but is horseshit.” Uncle Benjen shook his head. “Your father died protecting this family. We’re not kicking you to the curb.” 

 

“How?” 

 

“Your father had no living will prepared. Like you said, there aren’t any relatives.” Mr. Seaworth explained. “You’re a ward of Westeros. Along with assuming the role of guardian to the Starks, Brandon has agreed to become your guardian as well.” 

 

“He can do that?” 

 

“I made it clear that he better have these clever lawyers figure out a way.” Uncle Benjen smirked. “They’re expediting his application, and in the meantime, Davos is your guardian.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

“It’s what Ned would have wanted.” Uncle Benjen knew. “We’re going to take care of you.”

 

Sansa took comfort in that. She had her doubts about Uncle Brandon, but at least they would all be together, and Uncle Benjen wouldn’t be far. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going somewhere with this i promise. i hope you all enjoyed modern au rickon being told about canon rickon.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s weeks before Brandon Stark graces them with his presence. Jon had heard of him. Stark Technologies was responsible for a majority of the advancements Jon had seen in his lifetime, and Brandon Stark was its CEO. He’s famous for more than his name, and filthy stinking rich. From what Jon had heard, he’s also a bit of an asshole, and nothing like his brothers. He was anxious to meet this man no one seemed fond of. 

He sat next to Sansa in the conference room the hospital had let them use. Robb glared at the clock on the wall from across the table. 

“He should have been here ten minutes ago.” Sansa shared her brother’s disapproval. 

“He’ll be here.” Benjen promised. Jon had heard Benjen on the phone with who he could only assume was Brandon. Benjen may be younger, but he wasn’t taking any of Brandon’s shit. “It was a long flight.” 

“Don’t make excuses for him.” Robb warned. “We still like you.” 

Brandon joined them shortly thereafter, wearing a suit that fit him perfectly, and sunglasses Jon knew to be expensive. Before his father was hired to be a part of Ned Stark’s guard, he’d worked for people like Brandon. The fancy clothes, and expensive accessories. Jon knew the type. 

A young man not too much older than Jon and Robb stood beside Brandon. Probably the son of an employee, or someone Brandon owed a favor too, Jon decided. Brandon’s eyes landed on Jon while he was greeting Benjen. 

“Good gods.” Brandon shook his head. “You didn’t look like Ned when you were little, but you sure as the seven hells do now.” 

Jon stared at him awkwardly. 

“Brandon, that isn’t your nephew.” Benjen sighed, turning him toward Robb. “This is your nephew.” 

“Robb.” He gritted through his teeth, and introduced himself to his uncle. 

“That makes a lot more sense.” Brandon nodded. “You must be Sansa. It’s lovely to finally meet you, my dear. I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Sansa was as sweet as can be, remembering her manners, but Jon knew it was only courtesy. 

“So, you’re the ward...” Brandon turned once again to Jon. 

“Jon.” He corrected him. He would not be known as the ward. 

“Benny, is there something you’re not telling me about Jon here?” Brandon wondered, making Jon uncomfortable. 

“No.” Benjen shrugged, taking the paperwork from in front of Davos. 

“So, it’s a coincidence that I feel like a grumpy, teenage Ned is sitting right in front of me?” Brandon asked. “It’s a bit unnerving.”

Perhaps it was guilt. Or grief. Grief can do strange things to the mind, Jon knew. 

“Just sign the paperwork.” Benjen shoved the paperwork into Brandon’s chest. 

“Am I allowed to read it first?” Brandon smirked. “Always read what you sign, children. Let that be my first lesson to you all.” 

“Who’s your friend?” Benjen looked Brandon’s associate over. 

“This is Theon Greyjoy.” Brandon answered, still reading. “He’s interning with me.” 

“Greyjoy?” Benjen laughed. “How’d a Greyjoy end up interning with you?” 

“I applied.” Theon was confident. Jon didn’t like his attitude. He didn’t appreciate the way he was speaking to Benjen. “What’s it to you?”

“Wanted off the Iron Islands, did ya?” 

“Where are the others?” Brandon handed Davos the paperwork. “There are three other children?” 

“They’re upstairs in the game room.” Davos told him, organizing the papers into a file. He looked tired, Jon thought. It was understandable. The younger Starks were giving them all a run for their money. Bran was miserable, and pissed off at the world. Robb was preoccupied looking out for Bran, and Arya and Rickon felt slighted. Rickon listened to Sansa most of the time, but Arya listened to no one. She was missing her parents, Robb, and Bran. She was acting out. She had taken to influencing Rickon. Jon woke up a few nights before to neither of them in their bed. He found them soaking wet in the lobby. They had snuck into the kitchen, and the pool. They got stranded downstairs without a key. They were lucky they didn’t drown, and Jon had words with the employee at the front desk who was supposed to lock the door to the kitchen and pool. He didn’t tell anyone else. Davos was getting grey hair, and Benjen already had enough to deal with. He knew Sansa would sleep even less. He was satisfied with Arya and Rickon promising to not leave the hotel room alone again.

The game room was a life saver, and a great source of motivation for a recovering Bran. It took a couple weeks, and a lot of patience, but he was now able to sit safely in a wheelchair. When they left to meet with Brandon, he was playing air hockey with Arya. 

“How is young Brandon?” Brandon wondered, and Jon noticed Sansa discreetly roll her eyes. Jon could almost hear Bran insisting he was named after Bran The Builder, not their estranged uncle. “I’ve been worried.”

“Have you?” Robb sassed, the sarcasm obvious. 

“Robb...” Benjen attempted to intercede, but Robb was not having it. 

“It’s been weeks.” Robb raged, clenching his fists. “He wasn’t scared out of his mind while Bran was having surgery. He wasn’t up all night with him after, terrified to lose him too. He hasn’t helped him with therapy. He wasn’t even here for his brother’s funeral. He hasn’t been here.”

He hadn’t visited the ruins of the library, searching for answers they wouldn’t find. He hadn’t had the nightmares. Noises probably didn’t send his heart racing. He hasn’t been traumatized. Jon understood Robb’s anger. It was weirdly comforting. Misery loves company. 

“There were matters I needed to attend to.” Brandon offered. “I couldn’t just drop everything going on in my life.”

“Some of us didn’t have a choice.” Jon swore Robb snarled. “Uncle Benjen has responsibilities, and he’s been here. I had plans to go to The Vale, but I guess those went up in smoke with everything else. Bran had plans too. We all did.” 

“That’s enough.” Benjen placed hand on Robb’s shoulder.

“It needed to be said.” Robb defended himself. “I won’t apologize.”

“I’m not asking you to.” 

“You can still go to The Vale.” Brandon sounded sincere.

“No, I can’t.”

“Why don’t we head upstairs.” Davos suggested, hoping to ease the tension. “You can meet the other children.” 

They were still playing air hockey when Davos opened the door to the game room. 

“That’s seven!” Bran cheered, bringing Rickon into a headlock. “We win!” 

“You have Rickon cheating!” Arya whined. “It isn’t fair!” 

“You didn’t have a problem with us being a team before we beat you.” Bran pushed the brakes of his wheelchair back so he could move. “Victory lap!” 

He circled around the table with Rickon on his lap. Rickon laughed loudly in delight when Bran popped a wheelie. Jon smiled. He’d been working on that for days. It was nice to see them acting like kids again. 

“I demand a rematch!” Arya pouted, and noticed their arrival. “Robb or Jon can be on my team!” 

“I’m getting tired.” Bran stopped, and Rickon lowered himself off of his brother. “Sorry.”

“Liar.” 

“Arya, leave him be.” Robb told her sternly. “Come meet Uncle Brandon.” 

“He is lying.” Arya insisted, and shuffled over to them. “Hi.” 

“You look just like your aunt.” Brandon smiled at her. Jon had never heard anything about the Starks having an aunt. Brandon tousled Bran’s hair while Rickon hid behind Benjen. “I know you’re all sick of the south. Home is almost ready. Some accommodations for Bran needed to be made.” 

“It’s a long trip north.” Robb huffed protectively. “He still needs therapy three times a day.” 

 “There are perfectly capable therapists up there willing to work with him.”  

“I can go home?!” 

“When will it be ready?” Arya was curious, and anxious to leave King’s Landing. She was happy, hopeful. 

“I’ve been told a week, but I’m hoping sooner.” 

Everyone but Sansa seemed excited. Jon understood it. Going home meant being surrounded by memories of those she lost. It was easier to escape in the hotel. 

A few days later, they flew north on Brandon’s plane. Unlike Theon Greyjoy, Jon remained unimpressed. He had a plane, and it still took him this long to be with his nieces, nephews, and brother. It was clear the man had other priorities. Quite frankly, Jon was disgusted. 

Everything that was theirs from the Prime Minister’s residence was packed up, and put in storage a couple days after the assassinations. It was waiting for them at Winterfell when they arrived, something that annoyed them all. They would have liked to pack their own belongings, but that wasn’t an option. 

“Sansa!” Arya screamed, knowing Sansa’s room was closest to her own. Jon’s new room was down the hall. She was kneeling next to Arya, consoling her when Jon got there. “This is Mom’s! They put it in one of my boxes! This is why I wanted to pack!” 

“They put one of Dad’s notebooks in mine.” Sansa soothed her. “I wanted to rip it apart.” 

“I just want it to stop hurting!” Arya sobbed. “Get it out of my room!” 

It felt like a very personal moment, and Jon felt like he should leave, but he doesn’t. He blinked, and his face was wet. Unless there was something that belonged to father in his boxes, Jon had nothing of his parents. He barely even remembered his mother. He wasn’t even sure if the memories he has are real, or if he made them up to fill the void her absence left in his life. He’d give anything to have his mother’s necklace, or his father’s notebook. 

Sansa held the velvet case, and looked at the necklace that upset Arya so much. “Maybe she wanted you to have it.”

“I don’t want it.” Arya wiped her face. “It’s hers.” 

“I’ll hold on to it for you.” 

“I don’t care.” Arya sighed. “As long as it’s out of my room.”

“Uncle Benjen brought some cookies from that bakery in Wintertown.” Sansa stood up. “I’m going to have some.” 

“Are there lemon cake ones?” She had Arya’s interest. “I like those.”

“Gods, I hope so.” 

“I read that you shouldn’t eat your feelings.” Arya worried, following her, and seeing Jon. “Jon? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. He wanted to tell Jon to answer that he’s fine, but Jon wasn’t listening. This had happened before. The therapists his father took him to when he was younger called it dissociation. His mind conveniently pretends he isn’t Jon when it sucks to be Jon. It’s kind of like when you’re little, and pretend you’re invisible. Did other kids play that game, he wondered, while Sansa and Arya tried to talk to Jon. It had been happening more since that day everything went to shit.

“Let’s go downstairs.” 

“He’s crying.” Yes, Jon was leaking like a faucet, and there was no stopping it. 

“Go downstairs.” Sansa urged, eyeing Jon. Arya does not go downstairs. He was aware of them looking at Jon blubbering like an idiot, but he simply had to wait it out.

“I’m okay.” He was Jon again. “Just tired.”

“You’re all a bunch of liars.” Arya shook her head. “I’m going to eat my feelings.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“That was not nothing.” Sansa stared at him. He didn’t blame her. “Are you back with us?”

“I check out sometimes when I get upset.” 

“This has happened before?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Whatever you say.” Sansa grumbled, and brushed past him. 

“I’m sorry.” Jon had no idea how to explain it. “I can’t help it.”

“I’m just missing when a bad day was a day it rained after I straightened my hair.” 

“That is a bad day.” Jon followed her downstairs. 

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me.”

“I’m too tired to tease anyone.” Jon explained. Dissociating was exhausting. “I know what you mean, though. Rain is not a friend to this hair. It means I have to wear a hat or a hood.” 

“Does it happen a lot?”

“When I lived a tropical climate, yes.”

“I meant checking out.”

“Don’t worry about it.” They walked into the kitchen. They could see Arya on the front porch, eating her cookies. 

“You were catatonic.” Sansa snapped. “Is it still catatonic if you’re crying?”

He was impressed she knew what catatonic meant. 

“I’m fully aware of what’s going on.” Jon answered. “I’m Jon, but not. It’s like an out of body experience.”

“Does anyone know?”

“My Dad did.” Jon nodded. “He tried to help. He did.” 

“Okay.” Sansa looked through the box on the table. “I won’t tell anyone, but I can’t guarantee Arya won’t.” 

“It’s fine.” She passed the box to him. “They’re bound to notice anyway.” 

“Does anything help?”

“Not really.” He knew he just had to wait it out until it was over. “Thank you, though.”

Rickon and Robb were out in the yard with Benjen. He wanted to tell Sansa how lucky Rickon is. He’d only had his father. He wanted to tell her how worried he is about her little brother. He didn’t want Rickon to be like him. He doesn’t tell her. She had enough to worry about. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a couple of years later, so that is it for this time in their story. They’re all a mess, and I’m sorry. This has kind of taken on a life of its own. You can probably tell Jon has been a mess for a while. More on that later. I wanted to really focus on him, and his grief this chapter. Also, I wanted to show Arya and Sansa starting to become closer because I need that. Reminder that they will be happy, eventually. Slowburn happiness. Is that a thing? Note: Jon’s mother died when he was four, like Rickon. It was extremely traumatic for him, for reasons that will be discussed later. He sees a lot of himself in Rickon, and that’s why. I want to make it clear that he was very loved by his parents. It’s how he lost them that led to him being such a mess.


	5. Chapter 5

March 18th, nearly three years later. It’s Sansa’s fifteenth birthday, but it felt like any other day. Her alarm went off as usual, and she got ready for school. She heard Robb checking on Arya. She heard Rickon downstairs with Bran and Uncle Brandon. 

Excited, Rickon nearly tackled her when she walked into the kitchen. “Happy birthday, Sa! We made pancakes!”

“I don’t know how edible they are, but Rick insisted.” Uncle Brandon hugged her as well. Usually, they have something quick and easy for breakfast, but she always made a big deal out of everyone else’s birthday. Rickon had learned that from her. “Happy birthday.” 

There was an adjustment period after they moved back to Winterfell, but Uncle Brandon surprised them all. He takes his role in their lives seriously. Not that Uncle Benjen would accept any less, but it felt genuine. He’d even stepped down as CEO of Stark Technologies. Theon still lived with them, though. The glorified personal assistant Uncle Brandon also had a soft spot for. She’d had to have Uncle Brandon remind Theon that Robb and Jon are years younger than him a few times. Not that it did much good. They still got into trouble.

“Thank you.” She smiled, and fixed the hat she made Rickon for Christmas so it covered less of his face. 

“Ash is bringing muffins.” Uncle Brandon placed a couple more pancakes on a plate. Sansa liked his girlfriend. They’d reconnected after the move, and Sansa thought she was nice. “Ben had third shift last night, but he said he’d stop by.” 

“He doesn’t have to do that.” Sansa picked a pancake up with a fork, and decided she’d wait for the muffins. 

“I wanted to get you a dog.” Rickon handed her a card he had colored. “No one else did.” 

“Happy birthday!” Bran smiled, pouring himself some cereal. She kissed his head. His crutches were next to him, leaning against the table. He still used the wheelchair, but preferred the crutches around the house. He went to physical therapy regularly, and was in love with sled hockey. “I also wanted to get you a dog.” 

Sansa laughed, reading Rickon’s card. Jon walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a water from the fridge. He was ready for his morning run. Sansa rather enjoyed seeing him after a run. “Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks, there are pancakes, but I think they could have used some baking soda.” 

“I’ll pass.” 

“Jon!” Rickon shouted. “Did you give her your gift yet?” 

“Not yet.” Jon swallowed, his face turning pink. 

“He waited in line for hours.” Bran added, chewing his cereal. 

“Hours?” Uncle Brandon was suspicious, and Sansa’s stomach flipped. 

“Well, now the suspense is killing me.” She was dying to know what he had gotten her. 

“I’ll go get it.”

“I’ll come with you.” Sansa shamelessly followed him up the stairs, and into his room. He handed her a heavy, rectangular shaped present wrapped in shining wrapping paper. She knew immediately it was a book. She opened it to discover it was a book she already owned. Her favorite book. It was her book, she could tell.

“Open the cover.” He smiled, sensing her confusion. He’d gotten it signed by the author. “Arya heard they were going to be doing a book signing, and it was mostly her idea, and she’s the one who got it from your room.” 

“You’re just taking the credit?”

“I am the one who waited in line.” Jon shrugged. “I hope it makes your birthday very happy.”

“You know what would make it even happier?” Sansa closed the book. “If you and Robb would stop acting like a couple of idiots with Theon.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He played innocent. Sansa glared at him. “Fine, I’ll keep the stupidity to a minimum.”

“It’s for your own good.” Sansa plead. “I don’t think drinking and hooking up with random women helps with all you’ve got going on.”

“Are you jealous?” 

She was, but he didn’t need to know that. Not that she’d even seen him with anyone. This was based on what she’d heard from Robb and Theon. She took it with a grain of salt. “I’m worried. Promise me. At least until graduation. That’s only three months.”

“89 days, but who’s counting?” 

“Promise?”

“Okay, I promise.” Jon conceded. “But only because it’s your birthday.” 

“Yeah, it is!” Robb swooped in, and wrapped her in a bear hug. “Happy birthday! 15. I’m concerned. Do you remember what we were doing at 15, Snow?”

“Probably not.” Sansa slipped out from the bear hug. Jon sneered playfully at her. 

“89 days until graduation.” Jon sighed dramatically. 

“But how many of those do we actually have to go to class?” 

“What are you going to do after graduation, Jon?” Sansa wondered, and he ignored the question. 

“Why are you being so weird about it?” Robb elbowed him. “He’s joining The Watch.”

“You’re what?” So much for keeping his promise. She felt joining the military was the last thing he needed. She’d heard Uncle Benjen’s stories. 

“I report for basic training the end of June.” 

“You hadn’t told her...” Robb realized. Feeling the tension, he backed out of the room. “I’m going to annoy the shit out of Arya until she actually wakes up.” 

“I was going to tell you.”

“When?” 

“I don’t know.” It was stressing him out, she could tell, but she didn’t really care. He’d done it to himself. “I got you a really sweet gift, and I still promise to not do anything stupid.” 

“Do whatever you want.” It was none of her business. Her opinion was irrelevant. They weren’t dating. They weren’t even family. Well, that was debatable, given the coincidence of his mother and her aunt having the same name, and him looking so much like her father and uncles. She wondered what her father had known. No one talked about it. It did make her feelings for him a bit awkward, though. She couldn’t help it. He’s Jon. The day had completely gone to hell. Happy birthday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to anyone who had a spectacularly crappy birthday in their teens. 
> 
> It’s short, but bringing up a major plot point. Someone isn’t going to be too thrilled with their Uncle Benjen. That someone is Sansa. He and Jon will be getting the coldest of shoulders. Her being very against him joining is going to be a reoccurring theme, for reasons


	6. Chapter 6

He knew she wouldn’t be pleased, but he never expected this. For the record, Jon was planning to tell Sansa after her birthday. It had only been a couple of weeks since he truly decided to enlist, and a few days since he received a date to report. Despite what she may think, he hadn’t kept it from Sansa for long.

It didn’t matter. The damage had been done. She’d had some choice language for him that he never thought he’d hear from her mouth, and she slammed her door in his face. 

“Sans.” Jon longed to make it right. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t even sure why he cared. Jon firmly believed it was his life, and therefore his decision to make. He understood where she was coming from, but it was his choice. Except he hated upsetting her. He knocked on her door a few more times before leaving the book she had thrown at him on the table nearby. He went for a run. If he was going to survive basic training, and Ranger training after that, he was going to need to get in shape.

He felt better after his run. Sansa did not. It was pretty terrible for Benjen when Sansa left for school. The poor guy was there for her birthday, after working all night. She let him and Brandon both know exactly how she felt.

“I’ve told you for years he needs help!” Sansa slammed her textbook on the counter before storming out. “His brain is fragile! I’ve told you a thousand times, all of ours are. He needs help! Allowing him to join the military is not helping him! It’s borderline neglectful. He deserves better.”

He resented the needing help and being fragile comments, but he forgave her. Her heart was in the right place. For her information, though, they had helped him. Plenty. There had been appointments with therapists. It wasn’t their fault Jon wasn’t very receptive. You can take a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.

She didn’t ride with them to school. She walked. He tried multiple times to talk to her at school, but she ignored him. They usually ate lunch together, because he was one of the few seniors scheduled for that particular lunch, but when he went to sit down, her friend Jeyne put her backpack where he was going to sit. He took the hint. He went to the weight-room, and got an extra workout in.

“I think the entire freshman class hates me.” Jon told Robb when he sat next to him before their last class of the day.

“So?”

“It makes it a lot easier for your sister to ignore me.”

“I might regret asking this, but why do you care?” Robb tapped his pen on his desk.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Jon shrugged. He hated himself for causing her sadness. She’d had enough sadness. “I upset her on her birthday.”

“She’ll get over it.”

“Why isn’t she angry with you?”

“I was merely the unfortunate messenger.”

“It was unfortunate alright.” Jon scoffed. “Don’t act as though you’ve had no part in this. You were there with me at the recruiter’s office. You decided to not go to The Vale, and then you were all for me enlisting. That’s a bit transparent, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t suddenly decide to not leave my family.” Robb scowled. “I made that decision years ago. I stand by that decision.”

“I know.” Jon sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

“I probably am living vicariously through you.” Robb decided. “Just a little.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

She was still not over it when they arrive at the school for graduation, months later. Sansa can hold a grudge, Jon had learned. It was wearing on him. At least she was speaking to him again. 

“I’m not clapping for you.” She told him when he and Robb were about to walk to the designated staging area in their cap and gowns. “In protest.”

“Are you serious?” He’d asked, tired of it. Robb laughed.

“I’m not clapping for you either.” She left her brother dejected. She played with the camera Brandon had given her for her birthday. “You’re just as responsible.”

“I’m going to go line up.” Robb shook his head. “You’re being a brat, and no one made this decision for him. He made it all on his own.”

“You’ve encouraged it.”

“Stop!” Jon groaned. “Stop punishing everyone. It isn’t going to change anything.”

“You’d prefer I not speak to you?” Sansa snapped. “That seemed to bother you more.”

“I’d prefer you be happy for me.”

“Why?” She huffed. “Maybe I’m not happy for you.”

“Why?” He’d lost his home. He’d lost his family. This, though. This hurt him in a way he had never experienced. “Enlisting is the only decision I’ve ever made about my life. Everything else has been decided for me! I finally have some fucking agency, and I’m ecstatic about that. I’m taking control of my life, and I could really use some support. Do you know how easy it would have been to not graduate tonight? How easy it would have been to give up?! I wanted to! A lot! If you can’t understand that, I don’t know...If you can’t be happy for me...”

“You’re acting like enlisting is the only way you’ll have agency.” Sansa shrugged, unmoved. “You had numerous other options. I’m not supposed to be concerned you chose the most reckless?”

“It’s my choice.”

“It’s a terrible one!”

“You can’t even be the slightest bit happy for me? My parents aren’t here. You and your family are the closest thing I’ve got to a family of my own.” She stared at him, and he saw her resolve weakening. “I need someone to be happy for me today.”

“I am happy you didn’t give up.” She crossed her arms, her eyes moving to the ceiling.

“Thank you.” He moved closer to her, and she turned away. She wiped her eyes. “Sans, please don’t cry.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” She whispered. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I won’t be that far.” He hugged her.

“You don’t know where they’ll send you.” Sansa reminded him, resting against the soft, navy gown. “You don’t know what you’ll be put through.”

“I can handle it.”

“Don’t give up.” Sansa plead. “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful. I’m sorry. I’ll clap, and be happy for you, but whatever happens, please don’t give up.”

“I won’t.” He promised, holding her close.  He knew it was going to be difficult for him to leave.

”I wish I could lock you up somewhere, and keep you safe.” Sansa admitted. “I’d tell everyone you ran away.” 

“Please don’t.” Jon cringed. “I’m claustrophobic. Also, I don’t think you could hide me from MPs.” 

”I’m not going to.” 

“That was pretty dark.”

”I’ve gone to a very dark place these past couple of months.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You need to go line up.” She backed away from him, and straightened the tie that barely showed. She smoothed the embroidered, white stole on his chest and shoulders. He smiled, and put his cap on. She snapped a quick picture. After months of bitterness, it was a relief to have the Sansa he was accustomed to back. He had missed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be Jon leaving, and his graduation from basic training. Thank you so much to everyone who left nice, supportive feedback!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon leaves, and graduates from basic training.

She was glad her and Jon patched things over before graduation. Sansa was still outraged to her very core, but it was much easier to act like she remembered how to celebrate happy occasions. 

It made her appreciate even more that Robb would be attending a college closer to Winterfell than the academy at The Vale. Sansa knew she couldn’t have handled both of them leaving at the same time, as selfish as that was. She managed to be civil, and make the most of the time she had with Jon before he left. 

They spent the entire day before Jon left at the lake near Winterfell. It was a good day. They swam, lounged, and used the rope swing Robb installed the summer before. It almost felt like her soul wasn’t being ripped to shreds. 

It wasn’t just that Sansa was going to miss him. She had such an overwhelming sense of dread about Jon joining The Watch that she could barely breathe when she thought about it. No matter how hard she tried, she could not shake it. Jeyne said it was just anxiety, but she’d been dealing with that for years, and this was different. Sansa was scared to death, but she wasn’t going to waste his remaining hours with them like she had wasted those months being miserable. 

Once the sun began to set, Uncle Brandon and Uncle Benjen lit a fire, and they all sat by the shore. Rickon fell asleep on Arya, wrapped up in her sweatshirt. Arya nodded off as well. Robb and Theon were trying to convince her uncles that a platform in the middle of the lake was a good idea. Bran was discussing a video game with his friend, Meera. Sansa took the opportunity to give Jon his going away gift. He carefully unwrapped it, and opened the box. 

She knew he felt alone. She didn’t want him feeling that way at Fort Black. It was as close to being supportive as she was going to get. She supported Jon, just not his dumb decision. There is a difference. 

She had learned that he lost a lot of priceless things before he even moved to Lys. When they were looking at baby pictures of Robb weeks before graduation, Jon confided that he had none. Despite still being unimaginably angry with him, she set out then to find some before he left. She found one, from an old newspaper article. She arranged to have it printed, and placed it in a double frame above a picture of them all at graduation. 

Jon stared at the photo, before reading the caption Sansa had included. “Jon Snow, 3, enjoys the touch tank exhibit with his parents at the grand opening of Myr’s Marine Life Sanctuary and Rescue. I remember that. I pet a shark. I thought it was the coolest thing.” 

“I would have been too afraid.” 

“It was a baby shark. Tiny and harmless.” Jon continued to stare at his toddler self between his parents. He was very cute, toddler Jon. He had a big grin on his face, a mop of dark curls, and he was wearing a Thundercats shirt. He looked happy. He looked loved. “Thank you, Sansa.” 

“There’s more.” 

“I can’t.” He searched through the tissue paper, and found a small knife in a leather case. The wolf engraving on the handle made it easy for Jon to guess whose knife it had been. Her father was given it when he was Bran’s age. 

“You can.” She insisted. “Robb and I agree. We want you to have it.” 

“It was your father’s.” He placed the frame back in the box. 

“Now, it’s yours.” Sansa told him. “It saved his life a couple times during the Storm’s End Rebellion. It’ll keep you safe.” 

“If you’re sure.” He twirled the knife in his fingers. 

“We are.” Sansa nodded. “I checked with Uncle Benjen. If you want to wear it, you won’t be out of uniform.” 

“Maybe once I’m actually out there being the shield that guards the realms of men.” Jon decided. **The** shield. She found that funny, and terrifying. The imagery would make for some horrible nightmares. She pictured Jon alone with nothing but a shield to defend himself. “Isn’t it sword in the darkness, though? Not knife?”

“You’re the one who’s joining.” Sansa shrugged. “You’d know better than I would, but it is the 21st century. I don’t think they’ll expect you to carry around a sword.”

“I’d do it.” 

“A shield as well?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“I’m going to miss you.” She moves her chair closer to his, and wraps her arm around his. 

“I’ll miss you too.” He squeezed her arm. They quietly stayed that way until everyone started calling it a night. She didn’t want the night to end. She could have fallen asleep against Jon, but she didn’t want to. 

Eventually, they’re reminded of Jon’s early morning, and they made their way home. She’d hoped there would be a moment, passionate and emotional, kissing in the rain, but there was none of that. They’d had their own kind of moment. No sparks flew, but she would cherish it always.

Sansa did not sleep much, afraid that she would sleep through Jon leaving. She doesn’t. He placed his bag in the backseat of Uncle Benjen’s car, and they all said goodbye. Rickon begged Jon to stay, holding on to him, acting younger than he was. They should have known he would not do well with someone leaving. She could feel how torn Jon was. He gave a sad wave before sitting in the passengers seat, and closing the door.

She stood in the driveway with Rickon long after they were all done waving, and Uncle Benjen’s car had disappeared down the road. 

Later, she found herself in Jon’s room. It was cold. It was empty. Nothing of Jon remained. It was as if he had never been there at all. She sat on the bed that used to be his, and sobbed. Sansa wished her mother was there to comfort her, and offer her some sage advise. She wished her father was there. He’d promise Jon would be perfectly safe, and she’d believe him. If only wishing could make it so, but they were still gone. No amount of wishing could change that. 

Arya sat next to Sansa on the bed, and held her until she calmed. 

“Do you remember the day he moved into Torrhen Square?” Sansa asked her. “I never thought it would hurt so much to see him go.”

She never thought he would mean so much to her. She honestly didn’t realize until she knew he was leaving. 

“I remember Robb almost killed him.” 

“What?”

“We were sworn to secrecy.” Arya laughs. “You should have played manhunt with us.” 

“Tell me.” Sansa ran her thumb along the necklace Arya was wearing. Their mother’s necklace. “Distract me.” 

“Well, we found Robb, and he ran.” Arya began. “It was spring, remember? A lake there was thawing, and our brilliant brother went out onto it thinking we wouldn’t chase him. He thought wrong. He was so smug. Bran and I distracted him, while Jon snuck up on him. Those morons slid around on the ice until Jon fell in. He nearly drowned, but Robb got him out. We had a good laugh once we knew he was okay.”

“You’re all mental.” 

“You love us.” 

“I do.” More than Arya realized. “Can I tell you something?”

“What are sisters for?”

“You can’t make fun of me, or laugh.”

“I make no such agreement, but go on.”

“I think Jon is my soulmate.” 

“Oh, for the love of the gods.” Arya sighs, and truly sounded a great deal like their mother. “You believe in soulmates?”

“I do.”

“Why do you think Jon is yours?”

“I wouldn’t feel this way if he isn’t.” Sansa shrugged, a lump in her throat. “We have a connection.”

“That connection is called trauma.” Arya pointed out, and Sansa rolled her eyes. “You shove your opinion down everyone’s throats, and you’re going to listen to mine. You aren’t the only one who tries to make sense of everything. You aren’t the only one researching. I’ve talked to Syrio about it.”

“You’ve talked to your therapist about Jon?”

“No, about attachment.” Arya explained. “I typically want most people to stay the hells away from me, but it can go the other way, and be just as detrimental.” 

“He lived with us.” Sansa reminded her. “It would be weird if I didn’t form some sort of attachment.” 

“I don’t think it’s the sort of attachment that’s healthy, Sansa.” Arya softly said. “You’re miserable. It’s keeping you from being proud of him.” 

“I am proud of him.” 

“I doubt he thinks so.” 

“I’ll make sure he knows.” Sansa decided. “I didn’t know what else to do. He makes everything hurt less. He makes me feel okay, and he was slipping through my fingers.”

“It’s understandable.” Arya held her hand. “When Mom and Dad died, and Bran was hurt, he was there. Rickon and I needed you, Robb was taking care of Bran. Jon was there for you to lean on.” 

“He leaned on me too.” Sansa knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, but she still felt guilty. “We leaned on each other.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Arya consoled her. “It’s just an observation.” 

“I feel so lost already.” Sansa pouted. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I can’t help it.”

“Of course you didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“What do I do?” 

“You’ll figure it out.” Arya shrugged. “I recommend you stop fixating on Jon, and treating him like a crutch. He’s a human being, and you will be okay without him.”

“I can’t believe I’m listening to a twelve-year-old.” 

“A twelve-year-old who’s right.” Arya smirked. “I’ll be thirteen soon, and I’m very wise.” 

“I will take what you said under consideration.” 

“Jon’s going to be fine.” Arya promised, and Sansa believed her. “Uncle Benjen wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and think of everything he’s survived unarmed and untrained.” 

“I try not to think about that.” 

“He probably saved my life that day.” Arya said thoughtfully. “After the explosion, and the library collapsed. I didn’t know what to do, but I wanted to find Mom and Dad. I was running into that fire when he grabbed me. I think about that a lot.” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“I kicked the shit out of him, but he protected me anyway.” Arya lamented. “I trust him to guard the realms of men.” 

“Me too.” Sansa agreed. “Doesn’t mean I want him to.” 

“You don’t have to worry about him.” Arya swore. “Your man is a survivor.”

“You just said to stop fixating on him!” 

“I’m acknowledging that your feelings for him won’t go away overnight.”

“He isn’t mine.” 

“In your heart he is.”

“That is the lamest thing you have ever said.” Sansa laughed, feeling more at peace. 

“It might be, and I’m embarrassed, but no one will ever believe I said it.” Arya smiled. “Now, stop sitting in Jon’s room like some war widow.” 

“It isn’t his room anymore.” She wants to cry again, but doesn’t. “That’s what’s killing me.”

“He’ll always have a place here.” Arya stood, and placed a hand on her back to encourage her to leave. “Robb filled up some water balloons to cheer up Rickon.” 

“That sounds like it’s going to backfire.” 

“He doesn’t know Bran and I filled the rest, and have caches all over.” Arya puts her finger to her lips. “Shhh! It’s going to be a total ambush.” 

“Ridiculous, I love it.” 

“We could all use a little cheering up.” 

It was a long twelve weeks before Jon graduated from basic training. Summer ended, and a new school year began. They wrote to Jon often, and sent him care packages. Sansa tried to take Arya’s advice, but it wasn’t easy. They took the day off from school to attend his graduation. 

Uncle Brandon used the ride to Fort Black to explain expectations he knew of from when Uncle Benjen graduated. Basically, Jon was required to act a certain way while in uniform and on base. It was a reminder to Sansa and Robb, who visited Uncle Benjen on base a few times when they were younger. It put a sour taste in her mouth, but she wouldn’t let it spoil Jon’s accomplishment. 

He’d been exceptional. Jon had done so well, and impressed his platoon leader so much, that he was getting an award at graduation. He would also be moving on to be trained as a Ranger. It was still a struggle to be happy for him, but she was proud. 

It was hot for late September, and they were packed into the bleachers like sardines, but Jon was worth it. Sansa barely recognized him when she first saw him in his black dress uniform. He looked taller, stronger. There was something very confident about the way he was standing, and the hat accentuated that jawline. He looked good. He looked happy. 

There was a lot of marching, and a lot of commanding officers yelling. Speeches were given, and each platoon took their oaths, together. One graduate from each platoon received an award of honor, but Jon received the award for the entire graduating class. They announce his name, and it touched Sansa’s heart that they announced Winterfell as his home. He could have told them Myr, or Lys, but he chose Winterfell. 

The graduates salute their commanding officers, and they’re dismissed. The band played them off, and they met up with Jon near the entrance to the field. Rickon ran to him, and Jon lifted him up. 

“Jon!” 

“Hey!” Jon smiled. “Tell me all about the second grade.” 

“We have a pet hamster named Hamilton.” Rickon shared. “We’re going to grow lima beans. You really look like you’re in The Watch!” 

“That is the look I was going for.” Jon laughed. “Black’s always been my color.”

They hugged, and congratulated Jon. 

It felt good, but she was also dreading when they would have to leave him. She held on to him a little longer than necessary, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Jon had leave until later that evening, and they went to dinner. It started raining, and Jon covered the two of them with his jacket while they ran toward the door. He smiled at her when they reached the awning, and she wanted to kiss him, but she doesn’t. In a perfect world, he would be her first everything, but this world was far from perfect. It would only hurt more to leave him.  

He was excited about Ranger training, which would thankfully last another couple of months. He’d be relatively safe until then. Relatively. Her younger siblings were in awe, and it pissed her off the way they were idolizing him. It reminded her of how Robb idolized their father and Uncle Benjen. It worried her. Her baby brothers and sister would join the military over her dead body. She couldn’t stop Jon, and fate had stopped Robb, but she could stop them. 

Sansa lingered by the restaurant entrance while everyone else walked toward the parking lot. Rickon doubled back, gazed up at her, and squeezed her hand. 

“Do you need a hug?” He wondered, and she nodded. 

“Come on, we’ve got a hike home.” Uncle Brandon reminded them, and she ushered Rickon along. 

“Sa needed a hug!” Rickon growled protectively. 

“My apologies.” He laughed. “Take your time.” 

“He’s right.” Uncle Benjen. “You should get a move on.” 

She helps Rickon into the SUV, and Uncle Benjen hugged her. 

“Please, take care of him.” Sansa wished. “Look out for him. For me.” 

“I will.” He nodded. “I promise.” 

The ride to Winterfell was quiet until Robb looked back at her, and turned the radio up. It was a song he knew she liked. He sang obnoxiously, and the others joined in. She couldn’t help but smile and sing along.

“The drought is over!” Robb called. “Sansa is smiling!” 

She flipped him off. 

“I got in trouble for that at school.” Rickon whispered to her, worried. 

“Young lady, who raised you?!” Robb laughed, flipping her off back. 

“Wolves.” Arya answered for her, and continued to sing. 

Bran howled, and then Rickon, and then Robb. 

“I love you all so much.” Uncle Brandon shook his head, and took a sip of coffee with his hand that wasn’t on the wheel. 

Sansa sang, and rested her head against Arya. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Backstory. I hope you liked it! The next chapter will pick up after the 1st. To clear some things up: Jon was born in Myr, and moved to Lys after his mother died. I do not intend for Sansa to come across as disrespectful toward the military. She is a teenager, who has had loved ones ripped away from her by violence. She hates violence and war. She hates the idea of losing more people she cares about.  
> Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive. I am very excited about the next part of this story.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up where Chapter 1 left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some drunken, sexy times are had - you’ve been warned.  
> Also, Jon is struggling with ptsd and alcoholism, so if that isn’t your jam, I don’t recommend reading this chapter.

His head is spinning. He’d drank too much, and didn’t realize until he went to get up off the couch. His tolerance isn’t what it used to be. They would have to walk to his place, but it isn’t far, and Sansa isn’t opposed to some fresh air. 

He slips on some ice while they walk, and Sansa steadies him. 

“Easy there.”

“I am fine.” He smiles up at her before regaining his balance. It’s been years since he’s seen her, and it’s obvious when he really looks at her. He studies her, watching her while she walks. She’s always been pretty, he won’t deny that, but damn. She’s down right tantalizing. To him, she grew up over night, and it’s fucking with his head. He reaches in to the pockets of his leather jacket, and removes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She makes a face. “Don’t give me that face.”

“When you can’t breathe later in life, you’ll know why.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.” In that respect, at least. In other ways, she’s a completely different woman. 

“I see you’re as self destructive as ever.” Sansa gripes. “I can’t believe you smoke.”

“It helps with the anxiety.” 

“That isn’t an excuse.” 

“I’m not making an excuse.” He takes her hand. He wants to be close to her. “I’m explaining.”

“It’s disgusting.” 

It’s relaxing. It calms him. He slips the pack back into his pocket with his other hand. If it bothered her that much, he could do without. “I’ve missed you bossing me around.”

“I think there are plenty of people to boss you around.” She swings his arm, and he brings her to him.

“It isn’t the same.” He pauses, and rests his head against hers. He gets clingy when he drinks. 

“Come on, it’s cold.” She leads him down the sidewalk. 

They are quiet the rest of the way to his place. He can’t take his eyes off of her. He’s in awe of her. She licks her lips, and thoughts of everything he’d like her mouth to do makes his pants uncomfortably tight. 

He unlocks his front door, and Ghost nearly knocks Sansa over with excitement. She crouches down to pet him, and laughs when Ghost kisses her face. Which, is so very unlike Ghost that Jon is taken aback. He hates to interrupt the adorableness. It’s melting his icy heart, but it’s been hours since the poor dog was out. 

“Outside.” Jon snaps his fingers, and Ghost trots away toward the backdoor with a huff. Jon slides the door open, and Ghost runs out into the yard. “He usually has better manners.” 

“It’s okay.” She hangs her jacket over a chair. 

“I’d offer you something to drink, but I’m afraid it’s pretty dry here at the moment.” 

He’d been trying to not drink, but the stress of the party had done him in. He shouldn’t have promised Sam he’d go. Then he wouldn’t have run into Sansa, though. 

“I’m alright.” She smiles, leaning up against the table. She slips her long boots off. He stares at her again for a few moments. He’s probably creeping her out, but he does not even care. His eyes cannot get enough. “Nice place.”

It’s much nicer than the barracks, he’d give her that. 

“You should see my bedroom.” 

She snickers, and then she’s kissing him. It’s different than at the party. It’s more desperate, fervent. Her hands play with his hair, and massage his scalp. It’s heavenly. Ghost scratches at the door, and Jon tears himself away to let him in. 

He locks the door, and Sansa tugs his sweater over his head. Her eyes widen when she sees the scars. He is just now realizing she would have no idea about those. They’re easier to hide than the small ones on his face. She brushes them lightly with her fingers, and Jon takes her by the wrist. He spins her around, and leads her into bedroom with pat on the ass. 

He helps unzip her dress, and she steps out of it before turning to kiss him. He unclasps her bra, and tosses it behind him. He lifts her up by the legs, and lays her on the bed. He buries himself in her breasts, enjoying her moans as he moves. He kisses her, and can see the flush of her cheeks in the moonlight. She’s gorgeous. 

She moans loader when he rubs his thumb against her panties. She’s unbuttoned his jeans, and pushed them down. He kicks them off, and slips his fingers underneath her panties before pulling them down. He coaxes her until she’s writhing against his hand, and panting his name. 

He’d love to go down on her, but he’d also love to be inside of her. He rolls a condom from his bedside table on, promising to properly devour her later. He hovers over her, and slowly guides himself in. He grinds against her with each plunge. They find a rhythm, and he feels her flutter around him. She cries out, and he drives into her hard and fast to finish. 

He passes out shortly after using the bathroom, and disposing of the condom. 

He’s woken up a few hours later by his alarm. 

“Turn it off.” Sansa groans beside him. “Please.”

“It’s such a lovely sound.” He smirks. “I thought I’d leave it on.” 

She reaches over him, and turns it off. He’s grateful. His head is pounding. 

“I told Grenn I would take his shift this morning.” 

“How much are you regretting that right now?”

“So much.” He rubs his face. He’s regretting a lot of things. “I should get in the shower. You’re heading back to Winterfell today, right?” 

“Eventually.” She answers. “Once I feel like moving.” 

“There’s supposed to be a storm, so you might want to get moving sooner rather than later.”

“Kicking me out already?”

“The storm could strand you here for days.”

“Would that be the worst thing?”

“Where my head is at right now, yes.” He sighs. He hates to admit it, but it’s true. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m freaking out.” Jon leans against the door frame. “I need to shower, go to work, and forget this ever happened.” 

“You want to forget it happened?” She’s hurt. He can tell by her body language. He can tell by the pitch of her voice. He can tell by her face. It is not helping with the self loathing. All he does is hurt her. He wonders why she even wants to be around him. 

“I do.” He felt terrible, but it was honest. “I shouldn’t have gone to that party, I shouldn’t have drank, and I shouldn’t have slept with you.” 

“Well, you did, so.” 

“I was drunk.” 

“So was I.” Sansa snapped. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” 

“I told Sam this would happen.” Jon raises his voice, and clenches his fists. Ghost nudges him forcibly in the leg with his snout. He’s angry with himself. For getting drunk. For failing. Jon takes a breath, and pets his dog’s head. “I’d been doing so well. This is why I shouldn’t drink!” 

“That isn’t on me.” 

“I’m not saying it is!” Jon groans, absentmindedly hitting the doorframe with his fist. Ghost nudges him again, and then jumps up to put his paws on Jon’s chest. “It’s on me. I should have known better. You’re my CO’s niece! You’re Sansa.” 

“Pretending you didn’t fuck me isn’t going to change that.” 

“You’re barely eighteen.” Jon reminds her, and then panics. “Holy shit, you are eighteen, right?” 

“You forget how old I am?”

“My brain isn’t properly functioning right now.” Jon shakes his head. “You’ll be nineteen in a couple months.” 

“How sweet of you to remember.” 

“I’m sorry, but I need you to leave.” Jon shrugs sadly. He is this close to drinking the hangover away. He doesn’t want her to know that. 

“Fine.” Sansa throws the covers off, and finds her clothes. He doesn’t know what else to say. He just stands there petting Ghost, and Sansa glares at him. 

“I’ll give you a ride to Gilly’s.” He remembers where her car is. 

“Don’t bother.” She walks out the door, and he slides down to the floor with his face in his hands. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon’s head is a mess right now, and I’m sorry. He’s sorry. He’s been through a lot. Don’t worry, he’ll get some sense talked into him. He’s getting the help he needs, but it’s not something that simply gets cured. They’ll figure it out, eventually.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and the no good very bad day, basically.

She stomps through the ice and snow. She doesn’t even regret rejecting Jon’s offer of a ride. As if Sansa would want to be anywhere near him right now. She thought they had shared something special, but she was wrong. Sansa thought it was leading somewhere, but all it had done was hurt her.

She’s waiting at a crosswalk when a car beeps at her, and pulls over. It’s her car. Sam rolls down the window, and smiles at her. She stares blankly at him, her breath billowing in the cold air.

“Did Jon not tell you I was bringing your car?”

“No, no he didn’t.” She walks over to driver side door, and opens it. Sam is confused. “Well, you’ve brought me my car.”

“What did he do?” Sam sighs. “Why are you out walking in this?”

“You’ll have to ask your friend.” Sansa taps impatiently on the roof. “I would like to go home now.”

“Can you make a detour to Fort Black?” Sam pleads, holding up a tray of travel cups. “I’m not built for this weather, and I picked up coffee.”

“How have you made it this long in The Watch?” She takes one of the coffees, and he unbuckles himself to move to the passenger seat.

“I never wanted to enlist.” Sam shares. “I never wanted this. I want to be a psychiatrist, but my father said he wouldn’t pay. He told me to be a real doctor. My grades and exams didn’t exactly book any scholarships. So, here I am. In a couple years, they’ll pay for my education.”

“You showed him.” Sansa digs, and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m angry and hungover.”

“It’s okay.” Sam tells her. “Do you need to talk about it?”

She shakes her head and drives.

“The problem is that I’m an enabler.” Sam tries after a few moments of silence. “I knew Jon wouldn’t be comfortable at the party, but Gilly heard it was his birthday, so I nagged him to go.”

“He seemed perfectly comfortable to me.”

“That was after a few drinks.” Sam shrugs. “Strong ones at that. I should have put a stop to it when I saw him pouring. I was going to, I know he’d want me to, but he actually looked happy.”

“If he wants to drink and smoke himself to death, that’s his choice.”

“He doesn’t want to.” Sam argues. “He’d stopped drinking. He was working on other ways to cope.”

“I have very little sympathy for Jon and his pity parties at the moment.”

“Jon as a lot of scars you can’t see.” Sam sighs. “I thought your uncle would have told you.”

“He wouldn’t even tell me where Jon was deployed to because it was classified.”

It still aggravates her to this very day.

“Well, I can’t give you many details, but they were ambushed, and Jon was taken captive.”

“He was?”

“For five months.” Sam fidgets, and hesitates. This is very uncomfortable for him, and Sansa focuses on the road. She wants to be angry with Jon, but Sam is making it difficult. The only person she is angrier with than Jon is her uncle. She doesn’t care if she isn’t able to drive back to Winterfell today. She will be having a conversation with her Uncle Benjen. “He was in the hospital for weeks after they found him. Then rehab. It was pretty awful. It brought up a lot of terrible things for him. He’s been in treatment with a therapist since his psych evaluation to return to service. I go with him, because he doesn’t want to go alone. It hasn’t been easy for him. It’s never been easy for him.”

“I know.” It still doesn’t give him the right to treat her like she’s disposable. “I told him not to join. I begged him not to.”

“He told you what happened to his mother?” Sam wonders. “His brother?”

“No.” Sansa is glad they’re stopped at a red light. She thought she knew Jon. She knows nothing. She leans back against the headrest, entirely overwhelmed. “I thought he was an only child.”

“I’ve done it now.” Sam groans. “He trusted me, and I went and blabbed to you.”

“I won’t say anything.” Sansa promises. “It’s not like I’ll be speaking to him anytime soon.”

“Don’t give up on him.”

“Why do you care?”

“He’s my friend.” Sam explains. “I care about him. I’ve also never seen him as happy as he was last night.”

“That was the alcohol.”

“It wasn’t.” Sam disagrees. “I am well aquatinted with drunk Jon, and he can be a happy drunk on occasion, but never that happy.”

“Well, he wasn’t happy this morning.” Sansa huffs. “I’m not going to feel guilty for needing to distance myself from him right now. I tried to help him. I tried to help him for years.”

“Did you, though?”

“I did!” Now, she’s angry with Sam. “I told him...”

“You told him.” Sam interrupts. “You told him what you believe would help. I beg your pardon, but that isn’t the same thing. I know it was a rough morning, but he’s doing alright. He knows what works for him.”

She had flat out asked him what she could do to help, many times.

“I don’t think he knows.” Sansa rolls her eyes. “I don’t think he’ll ever know.”

“He knows.” Sam tells her. “He’s perfectly capable of it. He struggles, and it wears on him, but he’s working on it every day. He doesn’t need someone acting like he isn’t.”

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Of course.” Sam nods. “What are you studying at Queenscrown?”

“Social work.” Sansa answers. “We were lucky. I want to help people who aren’t so lucky.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sansa scowls. “I want to help people, but you think I’m giving up on Jon. I’m not giving up on him, I just don’t want to be around him.”

“I was thinking a lot of people will be very fortunate to have you in their lives.”

“He wasn’t like this before.” Sansa laments. “I don’t understand how you could say he’s doing alright.”

“I go to therapy with Jon so he’ll go.” Sam reminds her. “I got him Ghost. That took ages. I had to get it approved by The Watch and the organization that trained Ghost. I had to prove Jon needs him. He loves that dog.”

“He’s a service dog.” Sansa had no idea, but it did explain a lot about Ghost’s behavior. When she saw the pictures Jon posted, she thought he was trained to work with Jon and his team. “He wasn’t trained by The Watch.”

“No.”

“You’re a good friend.” Sansa isn’t sure at the moment if Jon deserves a friend like Sam, but she is glad he’s there.

Sam shows his ID at the gate, and she drops him off before parking closer to where her uncle’s office is.

She hands her identification to the MP at the entryway, and places her purse on the conveyor belt to be scanned. People see the name on her visitor’s pass, and do not question her presence. She is Benjen Stark’s niece. She marches right past his secretary, who does attempt to stop her, and walks into his office.

He’s sitting at his desk, reading a file.

“Jon was captured?!” No pleasantries. She needed to get what she was feeling out.

“Good morning.” He closes the file. “Happy New Year.”

“I don’t care how classified it is, you’re going to tell me.”

“Sansa, I’m sorry.” He motions to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “You’re a civilian.”

“I hate that word.” She reluctantly sits. “I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

“You’ll be sitting there for a long time.”

“You promised.” Sansa pouts. “You promised me you would take care of him.”

“There’s only so much I can control.” Uncle Benjen sighs, and stands to close the door. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but if it will help you understand, I will. Jon’s team was collecting intel on an extremist group near Hardhome. They were ambushed. We’re still not sure how. Our best guess is someone who arranged travel for the team. Jon knew exactly what he was signing up for when decided to become a Ranger. He saved a lot of lives that day. He’s a hero.”

“I care about his life.” She could not care less about a medal on his dress uniform. It did not erase his suffering. “I care about him.”

“He was rescued.” He reminds her. “He’s okay.”

“He isn’t okay.” Sansa blinks away the tears. “You didn’t tell me. I trusted you.”

“Jon shouldn’t have told you either.”

“He didn’t.” Sansa scoffs. “I’m not telling you who did. That’s classified.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“He was missing for months, and I didn’t know.” She felt a sob shake her. “What if he had died? What would you have told me then?”

“You were getting ready to graduate.” Uncle Benjen defends himself. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Is that why he wasn’t at my graduation? You had no idea where he was, and the gods know what was happening to him?” She had been angry with him about that too. Uncle Benjen finds some tissues for her. “He’d told me he’d try to go. I was mad at him! He was probably being tortured, and I was mad at him! Because you didn’t tell me!”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

“You should have.”

She dabs her eyes with a tissue, and Uncle Benjen squeezes her shoulder. She wants to start this new year over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Sam in this chapter. He brings up a very valid point. Something Sansa really needed to hear. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and please remember she is young. This was very difficult for her. Everything she thought she knew has been flipped upside-down. Also, she’s understandably heartbroken about what Jon went through. It’s exactly what she was terrified of happening. Benjen also brings up a valid point: Jon knew exactly what he was getting into when he enlisted. He would absolutely do it again. Also Ghost as a good ptsd doggo just made sense to me. He’s so quiet and tuned into Jon. He is such a comfort to Jon in canon, and I love this.
> 
> Jon POV next chapter. Thanks for feedback. It really means a lot to me! This will get fluffier soon, I promise. Happy endings are how I roll.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be wrapping this up within the next few chapters. Thank you so much to everyone who kept reading, and shown this love. I still refuse to abandon, even if it’s been forever since I’ve posted a chapter.

Jon walks into the small room his team uses for meetings with Ghost trotting beside him. Edd takes note of the large German Shepherd, and sighs knowingly. 

“One of those days, huh?”

“You could say that.” Jon sits. His mood has not improved. Ghost rests his head on his lap, and Jon run his hand over his white fur. “I really fucked up this time.” 

“We all fuck up from time to time.” Edd sympathizes. “What matters is that we own it.”

“Thought you’d be in a good mood this morning.” Pyp chimes in. “We all saw you leave with that redhead.”

“I will punch you in the throat.” Jon warns Pyp, signaling Ghost to lie down. Mostly, he wants the subject of Sansa being related to Benjen avoided. He doesn’t want to talk about Sansa. He had considered embracing falling off the wagon, but he had resisted the urge. Falling off the wagon does not mean he cannot get back on. He did not buy the whiskey he wanted to when he bought more smokes. 

“Seriously, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Owen eats the breakfast he brought from the mess hall. It makes Jon’s stomach churn. 

“The universe.” Jon rests his elbows on the table, and massages his temples. “The universe loves to piss in my Cheerios.”

Sam joins them shortly, glaring at Jon as he forcibly sets a coffee in front of him. 

“What is your problem?”

“Sansa was walking down a busy street, in a blizzard.” Sam frowns, taking his seat down the table from Jon. “Is my problem.”

“This is not a blizzard,” Ghost was resting at his feet, but he picks his head up at Jon’s tone. His eyes dart between Jon and Sam, “and she didn’t want a ride.”

“Why would she?” Sam crosses his arms. “After the way you treated her.”

“That is none of your business.” 

“Gilly will make it my business.”

“I’m beginning to understand the vow of celibacy they used to make us take.” Edd shakes his head, and Owen tosses some scraps from his breakfast to Ghost. Which, Jon has told him a thousand times not to do.

“Owen!” Jon growls, and Ghost tilts his head, still chewing on the scraps. 

“You’re not supposed to do that.” Sam sighs. “It distracts him.”

“It distracted you from your bickering.” Edd nods. “You’re telling me you never give that pup treats?”

“Of course I do.” Jon calms. “When he’s here, he’s here to work.” 

“Oh, what’s his rank?” Owen wonders. “How should I address him?”

“He outranks you.” Jon snaps his fingers, and Ghost resumes his position at his feet. “I’ll tell you that much.”

Owen salutes Ghost, and Edd opens up his laptop. “There are rumors about the Boltons again.”

“How much credibility is there to these rumors?” Jon wonders, sighing. Roose Bolton succeeded Ned Stark as Prime Minister. More than a few conspiracy theories credit the Boltons with the assassinations that day. If they’re true, they also murdered Jon’s father. The Boltons, Roose’s son in particular, make Jon’s skin crawl. He was having a wonderful morning, so why not bring the people who allegedly blew his father up into the fold. The universe, pissing in his Cheerios. 

“Enough that they’re being audited to see exactly where their money is going.” 

“They’re not going to find anything they haven’t before.” Pyp groans. “They need to look at accounts outside of Westeros.”

“Easier said than done.” Jon scowls. “Which, is why people use such accounts.” 

“That’s where we come in.” Edd shares. “Happy New Year, we’re going to Braavos.” 

“How soon?” Jon clenches his jaw, and focuses on his breathing. Ghost stands, and rests his head on Jon’s lap again. Jon scratches him behind the ears, and Ghost sits. The thought of being deployed again, set his anxieties off. It’s a day that keeps on giving.

“You’ll know when I do.”

“Why Braavos?” Owen wonders, obviously forgetting where a majority of shady individuals hoard their money, Iron Bank accounts. 

“We’re being assigned to protect the agents going there to investigate.” Edd answers. “We start planning today. Sam, you’ll be the most believable as an agent, so you’ll be spending a lot of time with them.”

“Not again.” Sam grumbles, knowing full well his anonymity is why he was recruited to be a Ranger. He also does a lot of their tech work, but they’d hoped he’d easily blend in. “You know I’m rubbish at anything remotely undercover. I get so nervous.”

Jon shares this sentiment. Not again. 

“Consider this an opportunity to improve.” Edd tells him, and Pyp snickers. “You’ll be joining him. He’ll need a second.” 

“Why can’t Jon or Grenn partner with him?”

“Grenn isn’t here laughing at him, and the idea is to protect without being obvious about it.” Edd rolls his eyes. “Does Jon look like the type to enjoy spreadsheets and budgets? He would have better luck convincing the average Braavosi he’s a ballerina.” 

“My lines are exquisite.” Jon sways his arms in way he’d seen Sansa move years ago. He did not want to be thinking about her, but she kept creeping into his racing thoughts. They brainstorm for a while, but Jon is distracted. This does not go unnoticed, and Edd decides they should break for a few minutes. He pets Ghost, and shares with Sam, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“It won’t be as dangerous as last time.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.” Jon scoffs. “People aren’t going to like the precedent this is setting. Iron Bank accounts have never been under the microscope before. Braavosi law protects them. I’m amazed Braavos is cooperating. It’s going to upset  a lot of people. It’s going to be a shit show.”  

“Would you even be cleared to go?” Sam wonders. “There are still a lot of conditions to your return to service.”

“I’m aware.” Jon scathes, hating that terminology. It made him sound like some piece of machinery that was malfunctioning. 

“As much as I wouldn’t want to go without you, it might not be the best idea.”

“I suppose it would be up to Qhorin.” Jon pats his lap, and Ghost jumps up on him. Jon snuggles his face in to Ghost’s fur. “He’d have to evaluate me.” 

“How does he even fit up there?” 

“Very carefully.” Jon laughs, resting against Ghost. “Sansa told you what happened?”

“No.” Sam straightens, guarded. “She was very upset, though.” 

“I was an asshole.” 

“I figured as much.”

“I was angry at myself, and she was there.” Jon sighs. “I need a warning label.” 

He doesn’t know what to do, but he knows he doesn’t want to deploy again with things this way with Sansa. Sam warns him that Sansa needs space, but Jon can only feel the pressure of the impending deployment to fix it. She ignores his call, and a few hours later, he decides to call it an early day. He drives south with Ghost in the passenger seat of his truck. 

For the fourth time, Sansa ignores Jon’s call. She contemplates blocking his phone number, but it isn’t worth the effort. She tosses the phone away from her, landing at her feet. She pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, and watches the movie Arya told her she’d missed the beginning of. It’s all blood and sword fights, but Sansa appreciates the costumes. One of the characters reminds her of Jon, but he isn’t an asshole. He’d treat Sansa right, she’s sure of it. If only he weren’t fictional. 

Her phone buzzes, alerting her that Jon has resorted to text messages. 

**Talk to me**

**Please**

           You said plenty this morning. 

**I’m sorry**

**I need to make this right**

**Sansa**

           Need to?

**It’d be easier to explain if you’d actually speak to me**

           I don’t care. 

**Liar**

**I’m outside if you want to talk**

**Unless you’d like to have this conversation in front of everyone**

“What the hell?” Sansa screams at her phone. 

“You’d be a lot less confused if you’d seen the other two movies.” Bran munches on some popcorn, and rolls his eyes. “Or read the book.” 

“No, that isn’t...,” Sansa types a quick reply to Jon. “I forgot something in my car.” 

He’s waiting for her on the porch, leaning up against a pillar. He’d brought Ghost with him. He leaves Jon’s side, and brushes up against Sansa’s leg. She leans down to pet him. 

“What do you want?!” 

“I don’t want to leave things the way they are.”

“Then you shouldn’t have.” Sansa straightens, crossing her arms in the cold. She hadn’t grabbed a jacket.

“They’re sending us to Braavos.” Jon steps toward her, and she backs away. “I don’t know when, but it’s happening.”

“I’m not going to pretend to forgive you so you can have peace of mind when they ship you off like cargo.” 

“My mind is rarely peaceful.” Jon jokes. “I thought you knew that by now.”

“This morning was a nice reminder.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s going to take more than an apology to fix this.” Sansa shrugs. “What happened between us, meant something to me, and you want to forget it ever happened. Like it meant nothing to you. Like I mean nothing to you.”

“That isn’t true.”

“You wished it never happened!” She groans, and Ghost stands up on his hind legs so his front paws are on her shoulders. He licks her face. “This is ridiculous. Does he do this all the time?”

“Normally, only to me.” Jon smirks. “It’s his job, and he’s very good at it. You must be in a great deal of distress.”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

“I wish I could take it back.” Jon calls Ghost back to his side, and Ghost sits. “I really do.”

“All of it?” Sansa blinks. “Because if that’s the case, can I wish for my virginity back? Since you don’t give a shit...”

“For fuck’s sake.” Jon grumbles. “I give a shit! I’m just terrible at showing it, and you didn’t tell me!” 

“You didn’t ask!” 

“You didn’t tell me!” 

“You didn’t tell me a lot of things!” Sansa scoffs. “You have a lot of nerve calling me a liar, when you’ve been lying to me since we met.” 

“What are you talking about?” Jon is annoyed. Ghost nudges him in the thigh with his snout, and turns so his head is underneath Jon’s hand. “When did I lie?”

“You said you’re an only child.” 

“I said I don’t have any brothers or sisters, which is true.”

“You had a brother.” Sansa shakes her head, sitting on the bench by the door. “Sam told me.”

“Had being the key word.” Jon snaps. “Pardon me for not wanting to discuss it.”

“I get that,” Sansa is patient, “but how am I supposed to trust someone who would hide that? You were in the hospital for weeks, and you didn’t tell us.” 

“I didn’t hide anything!” 

“You need to leave.” Sansa stands, and he’s dejected. He stares at her with that wounded puppy look on his face. It wasn’t going to work this time. “I’m sorry you’re freaked out about deploying again, but go.”

“Sans...”

“Go!” 

“I’m sorry I dragged you into my mess of a life.” Jon whispers. “I’m sorry I’m a fuck up. I’m sorry I have the emotional capacity of a tree.” 

“Leave.” Sansa pleads, pushing him toward the stairs. “Please.” 

“Hey, you heard her. Get lost.” Robb appears on the porch, ready to defend her. Unaware of who he would be defending her against. “Jon?” 

“Hey.”

“I’m sure this is exactly what it looks like.” Robb sighs. “Go inside with Ghost. There’s food in the fridge.” 

She glares at Robb, trying to telepathically make it clear that she does not want Jon in the house. 

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” 

“No.” Sansa pouts, moving to go inside.

“You can talk to me.” Robb blocks her. “I’m serious. I’m here for you if you need me. You’re my little sister. I’ll make time for you if you need it. You can tell me some seriously weird shit, and I’ll listen. Chances are I’ve been there before. I’ll listen, but you’ve got to talk to me.” 

“I’m so stupid.” She collapses against him, and Robb holds her. “I thought we were finally catching a break. He’s in so much pain, and I don’t know what to do. Did you know he was held captive for months?”

“No.” Robb answers. “I knew something was off, but I had no idea.”

“Good.” Sansa breathes. “I can still trust you.”

“Obviously.” Robb laughs. “You’re not stupid.”

“I slept with him,” Sansa tells him, “and he wants to act like it never happened.”

“You are his superior officer’s niece.” Robb is uncomfortable, she can tell, but he stays true to his word.

“Jon’s his nephew.” 

“That isn’t public knowledge.” Robb reminds her. “His team would know who you are, though. He wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression.”

“It shouldn’t matter.” Sansa argues. “I feel like I don’t know him at all.” 

“You do.” Robb shrugs. “Jon is just guarded.” 

“Did you know he has a brother?”

“Yes.” Robb admits, and Sansa groans loudly in frustration. “He was very drunk when he told me, and I got the impression that I shouldn’t mention it.”

“He shouldn’t get a free pass because he was drunk.” 

“Was he drunk when you slept together?”

“We both were.” Sansa shrugs. “Apparently, its a problem he’s working on.” 

“He doesn’t regret sleeping with you.” Robb decides. “He regrets drinking. Theon has tried to sober up a few times, and he’s a miserable son of a bitch every time he starts up again.” 

“I didn’t want my first time to be a drunken hook up at a party, but here we are.” Sansa rolls her eyes. “I’m not bitching about it.”

“I’m sorry.” Robb sympathizes. “It rarely lives up to our expectations.”

“I didn’t even care.” Sansa shrugs. “Because it was with him. What hurts is that he wishes it never happened.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“It is!”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Sansa cries. “He’s a mess.”

“It’s his mess.” Robb reminds her. “I’m sure it took a lot for him to come here, though. I know you mean a lot to him too.”

“Sure, take his side.”

“I’m not picking sides,” Robb wraps an arm around her, “but if I were to, I’d be on yours . If you want me to kick his ass, I will. If you want me to make him leave, I will.” 

“I want to start today over.” Sansa grumbles. “I don’t want him to deploy with things this way between us, but I’m so angry.” 

“You’re allowed to be angry.”

“I don’t want to be angry with him.” She admits. “It shouldn’t be this hard. He can stay. Until it’s safer for him to be on the road, at least. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking, driving here.”

“Reckless and impulsive comes with the territory.” Robb commiserates. “He was trying to make it up to you, because the guilt and shame were probably eating him alive. I’m serious when I say it’s his mess. You were caught in the cross hairs of it. It’s unfair to you, and he knows it. My offer stands to kick his ass.” 

“I’ll let you know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing au because I can have big brother Robb. I have 4 brothers, but my big brother means the world to me, and I don’t know what I’d do without him. I’m so glad Sansa has hers. Probably why what happened to canon Robb destroys me. Thanks for sticking with me. I had plans to drag this out a little longer, but I got impatient. They’re reallly close to figuring things out. Side note: they were watching return of the king.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It’s been months since I’ve updated, but here’s a chapter with almost 5k words. It was a monster to write. I was being super picky about it. Some pretty awful things that Jon has been through are brought up. They aren’t described in graphic detail, but still, I thought I would warn.

They’re all staring at him from the living room. Jon turns away in shame, and Brandon blindsides him, grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket. The look in his icy, slate-blue eyes justifies all of the stories that refer to him as wild. Jon recognizes the explosive Stark temper flaring. Brandon pins Jon against the door. 

Jon can feel his instincts kicking in, but he resists fighting. Not only does Brandon have the advantage of his size, he has also strategically placed his other arm and legs. He is practiced in hand-to-hand combat, and obviously so. Which is surprising, considering he wasn’t in the military like his brothers. He was a fucking CEO, and he could give Jon a run for his money. Jon doesn’t have the energy. He doesn’t want to fight Brandon, or anyone else.

“If I ever hear you raise your voice to her like that again,” Brandon warns him, and Jon yields, “You will regret it. Am I clear?” 

He hadn’t even realized he’d been loud enough for everyone inside to hear him arguing with Sansa. He had scared them.

Jon gets it. His training mixed with his trauma can lead to nasty situations. Sansa suggested he read a thousand different articles about it before he left for basic. He knows the risk. Jon likes to believe he would never hurt someone if it weren’t completely necessary, but he knows what a dick his brain can be. This morning was a perfect example. He understands. Even Ghost understands, seeing as he isn’t biting the shit out of Brandon. The dog is watching Jon. No one trusts him, not even his dog, and this is why Jon keeps to himself. He nods, unclenching his fists, and Brandon relaxes his grip. “I do regret it.”

“Good,” Brandon sighs, his expression both softened and saddened, “I’m sorry I had to be that guy, but I don’t think anyone else would. It needed to be said.” 

“Robb sent me inside,” Jon moves away from the door, and fixes his jacket, “but I don’t think she wants me around.” 

Most of the Starks have returned their attention to whatever they were watching, but Rickon is glaring at him with that Stark rage. 

Jon decides he should go. He is just upsetting everyone. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Brandon tells him quite simply, “You shouldn’t have driven here in the first place. It was completely moronic. I told Sansa off as well when she got here. Get comfortable.” 

“It’s just a little snow.”

“So are you,” Brandon remarks with a smirk, “and look at all the commotion you caused this evening.” 

“I’m trying to watch a movie here.” Arya complains about the noise they’ve been making. “I don’t really care that Jon and Sansa regret exchanging some body heat.”

“I think they did a little more than that.” Bran is the only one who laughs, and Arya throws a handful of popcorn at him. 

“That is not what I’m talking about.” Brandon glares. “I don’t ever want to discuss that.” 

“I’m leaving.”

“I don’t think so.” Brandon steps in front of him, making it clear that he was unimpressed by Jon’s show of force. 

Jon slowly makes his way into the kitchen, frustrated. He isn’t hungry, but he wants to be alone. He finds a bowl, and fills it with some water for Ghost. He runs his hand down the dog’s white back while he drinks. “Real protective, you are.” 

Ghost turns, and brushes Jon’s arm with his wet snout before licking it. “Okay, I forgive you.”

He hasn’t done anything wrong, really. Ghost isn’t trained to protect. 

Jon sits at the table, and stews in his embarrassment. He hears Sansa and Robb come inside, and he hears Sansa go up the stairs to her room. Brandon follows her.

Robb joins him in the kitchen, followed by Rickon, who is clearly taking advantage of Brandon being upstairs.

“Rick, go watch the movie.” 

“I want to yell at Jon.” 

“I think enough people have yelled at Jon,” Robb spins him around, gently pushing the tall boy out of the kitchen. 

“He made Sansa cry,” Rickon growls, pure anger written all over his young face. He gets away from Robb, and stomps over to the table. He places his hands on the table, and stares directly at Jon. “I want to kick him so hard that he cries.”

“You can’t do that every time Sansa is upset.” Robb runs his hands through his hair, exasperated. “I need to talk to Jon.”

“Okay.” Rickon ignores the suggestion to leave. 

“Alone, Rickon.” 

Rickon rolls his eyes, and bumps into Jon purposefully before leaving. 

“If you were anyone else,” Robb shakes his head before sitting across from Jon, “I would let him kick you all the way from here to Fort Black.” 

“I kind of want him to.” 

“I would enjoy it.” Robb smirks. “You need to get your shit together. I am so serious. I like you, but I will not see her dragged into whatever you have going on.” 

“She’d be better off without me screwing up her life.” Jon comments. Life is full of opportunities for her. He will never understand why she would ever want him to be a part of that life. “I don’t need you to tell me.”

“I’m not saying that.” Robb sighs heavily. “I’m saying you have some things you need to work on, and I’m concerned because you’re my friend.” 

“I know.” Jon smiles sadly. “It’s why I wanted her to leave this morning. I never wanted her to see me like that.”

“She didn’t care until you treated her as if she’s expendable.” 

She is far from expendable. 

“I thought I hit bottom a while ago, but this morning was a whole new level,” Jon laments, “and she had a front row seat.”

“You and Theon should really talk more.” Robb laughs, but something about the laugh makes it clear that it is not all that funny. “The idea of there being a bottom can be very damaging to recovery.”

“She hates me.” He knows he is being dramatic, but Jon does not care. He’s allowed to be dramatic if he wants to be.

“She does not hate you.” Robb assures him. “She’s hurt. She’s hurt by the way you treated her, and she’s hurting for everything you’ve been through.” 

“I never meant to hurt her.” 

“Whether you meant to or not, you did.” Robb eyes him with the same cold, unforgiving stare as Sansa. “I’m cutting you some slack, because you’re clearly going through something, but my patience has a limit. She’s my sister, and I won’t see her heart continually stomped all over. If I could, I would keep it from ever happening.  You know how she feels about you. You need to figure out how you feel about her.”

If only it were that simple. He has spent so much of his life burying his feelings, they are difficult to identify. It is much easier to numb them. 

When they are numbed, they don’t overwhelm him. He doesn’t short-circuit like he did this morning. 

“You don’t have to figure it out this minute,” Robb senses his apprehension, “but sooner rather than later.”

She deserves better than someone confused by the most rudimentary of human emotions. He knows this, and while he isn’t exactly sure what he feels for Sansa, he feels something all the same. It has given him strength. He desperately held on to the thought of her when he wasn’t sure he’d survive. 

He hasn’t given it much thought. He hasn’t wanted to venture down that road. Jon doesn’t want to relive what she helped him endure.

Even before he joined The Watch, she was a comfort. She was safety. She was stability. She made him feel almost whole. Sansa has seen some of the darkest depths of his soul, and somehow there is no one else on the planet who cares about him more. 

Jon never expected to be so attracted to her. He has always appreciated how beautiful she is, but the need to tear her clothes off and feel her skin against his is new. It’s really made a mess of things. He was wondering if it was the alcohol, but seeing her just now, he knows it wasn’t. He wants to kiss away her tears. He wants to fuck her senseless. He wants her to fuck him senseless. They should fuck each other senseless, and often. It’s all very confusing. He has absolutely no idea what he’s going to do about it. 

He wants to be with her, but it’s a terrible idea. Sansa deserves someone who can give her everything she ever dreamed of, and more. That isn’t him. She’d be happier with someone else. 

Robb leaves him to his thoughts, and Jon hears him bicker with Bran and Arya about rewinding the movie. Jon did not realize how much he has missed them all until he was here. He’ll never know how to tell any of them how much they mean to him. 

Ghost is laying in the entryway to the kitchen, lifting his head to check on him every so often. It’s strange. It’s as if he’s waiting for someone. 

Jon is exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep. He also does not wish to disturb the Starks any more than he already has, so he stays put. He hasn’t figured out why isolation comes so naturally to him, but everything is a lot easier to ignore when you’re alone. 

A while later, Ghost stands, and Sansa is startled when she turns the corner into the kitchen. She is not startled by the large dog demanding her attention, but by Jon. She was not expecting him to be sitting at the kitchen table.

Even in the dim light of the kitchen, he can see that her eyes are red and swollen from crying. He has to look away. He did that. 

“I just wanted some tea.” She kneels to pet Ghost, and the German Shepherd follows her over to the stove. Then to the sink, and back to the stove. Jon smiles. He finds it very cute. He could get lost in the visions of domestic bliss it puts in his head.

He doesn’t say a word. He lets her do her thing. Jon tries to not let her see him glancing over at her, but she catches him. He shrugs, and she mumbles something while she reaches up into the cabinet for a mug. Her shirt rides up, revealing the slightest bit of her stomach and back. He stares at the dimples in the small of her back. He wishes he could run his fingers along them like he had last night. 

To his surprise, she pulls two mugs down, and when the water is boiling, she prepares enough for two. She places a mug in front of Jon, confirming it is for him, and sits next to him. “Thank you.”

“I’m still mad at you.” She sips, and he stares at the mug in his hands. She should have poured the hot tea all over him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how.” He wanted to keep that negativity out of their lives. It was easier that way.

“I thought you told me things.” Ghost lifts her other hand with his nose, asking for scratches. She obliges. “You’re entitled to your privacy, but I thought we were closer than that. I feel like I know nothing about you. You were missing for months, and then in the hospital, and we had no idea.”

“You know more than most.” 

“That isn’t the point.” Sansa huffs. “Finding out from Sam, sucked. Being tossed away like a one night stand, sucked. Seeing you that upset, sucked. It broke my heart to see you hurting so badly.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are.” The unforgiving stare is back, as cold as the frost forming on the windows beside them. “What are we going to do about it?”

“I wish I knew.” He stares back. He supposed he could start with the truth. All of it. “I never really felt safe until I lived here, with you. I know that may seem strange, I had my Dad, but he worked. We moved around a lot. I was broody and quiet. I was in and out of the hospital when it got bad, and Dad didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t have very many friends. I didn’t really have anyone. I was scared a lot.” 

“Because of what happened to your family?”

“Did Sam tell you?”

“No.” Sansa promises. “He just said you have a brother. He thought I knew.” 

“I had a brother-” Jon corrects her with a slow, heavy shake of his head. “-and not for very long. I don’t remember much. It’s all jumbled up, and hard to place. Most of what I remember, I wish I couldn’t.”

“We don’t have to talk about this.” Sansa takes his hand. “We don’t. I’m not asking you to. That isn’t what I meant.”

“I want you to trust me.” He wants her to understand. His entire body feels like it is shaking. He squeezes her hand back. He needs to put it all out there, lay it all on the table. He’ll feel better with it out in the open. “His name was Ryon. Mom called him Ry. She called me J-Bird. Her little J-Bird. That’s what she called me. I’ve never told anyone that. I remember holding Ryon, and playing with him. I remember making him laugh. I don’t want to forget that. I’m glad I at least have that. I wonder what he would be like today. He was just a baby. He was so small. During the Storm’s End Rebellion there was a lot of unrest in parts of Myr. My Dad wasn’t with us. He was helping control it. I was very angry with him, for not being there, for a long time. I didn’t even realize how angry I was with him. Mom had taken us to the children’s museum. I liked the puzzles, and the playground they had there. I remember her playing those games with me. We’d go there all the time. It all happened so quickly. It was my fault we were there. It...”

“Jon, I’m serious.” Sansa tells him when he struggles to find the words. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“I need to.” Jon insists. He is doing it for himself, as much as he is doing it for her. He has been holding on to it for so long. He’s spoken to Qhorin about what happened in Hardhome, but not about this.  He doesn’t talk about this. “My Dad found me at a police station. I remember crying until he was there holding me. I remember choking on the smoke. People were lighting shit on fire, and beating the complete fuck out of each other. I had no idea what was happening. Mom was holding my hand, until she wasn’t. They’d wrapped me in a blanket, and given me a shirt to wear. My clothes and shoes were all bloody. That’s how I knew they were hurt. She let go of my hand, I saw them on the ground, and I saw the blood. So many people walked by us, and did nothing. Mom and Ryon were bleeding. I was screaming and crying, but it was so long before anyone helped. I’ll never forget how that felt. Someone fucking shot her, and because she was holding Ryon, it killed him too. It was my fault we were there. It was my fault.”

Having moved closer, Sansa cradles Jon to comfort him. She runs her hand tenderly up and down his back. No one has done that for years. He breaks down in her arms. 

“It was so long before anyone tried to help,” Jon recalls, his heart racing. “I think that’s why what happened in King’s Landing fucked me up even more. I saw King Robert lying there bleeding, and I could have screamed bloody murder. I felt four-years-old again, but I pushed it all away. I shut down, and I hate it. I didn’t even mean to. You know I can’t control it. I hate that the last time I was with my Dad, I was so fucking scared, I completely checked out. I wasn’t really there. I didn’t want to be. I spent years being afraid that I would lose him too, and then I did. I had you, though. I had your brothers and sister. I had Benjen and Brandon. Arya snapped me out it that day. She brought me back. I saw her running toward the fire, and I couldn’t let her do that. I had to stop her. I had to help. I had to help you all.” 

“She told me about that.” Sansa shares. “She says you saved her life.” 

He can easily recall a scrawny and screaming Arya kicking him while he carried her to safety. He remembers the tears and dirt streaming down her face. Maybe it is true that he saved her. He would say it was her that saved him, in a very different way. Sansa as well. They all save him, over and over again. 

“I think that’s why I joined The Watch,” Jon acknowledges, “I wanted to help people because so many people didn’t help me or Mom or Ryon. We helped Bran. I didn’t want anyone else to ever know what that feels like. I thought it would make something click inside of me, and I wouldn’t be such a disaster.” 

“You aren’t a disaster.” Sansa squeezes his arm, still holding him. 

“I should have listened to you.” Jon frowns. “Nothing clicked. It only made everything worse. Needing to help is what got me captured. We were raiding a building, and it all went to hell. They had been tipped off. We were hauling ass out of there when I saw this girl struggling against a couple of creeps. I went to help, and that’s how they got me. It was a trap. It was like they knew exactly how to get to me. They figured out pretty quickly how to get under my skin. The typical tactics didn’t work. I’d been through them all in training. I’m really good at pretending things aren’t happening to me.” 

“They did what to you during training?” He shouldn’t have told her that. She is already angry.

“I shouldn’t elaborate.” Jon cringes. “You won’t like it, and I’m not supposed to.” 

“You don’t need to elaborate, I’m just horrified.” 

“They do it to prepare us for the exact situation I was put in.” Jon defends. “It’s pretty standard.” 

“It’s abhorrent.” Her expression hardens. “How did they get under your skin? I don’t want to know, but I probably should. I never want to remind you of that.” 

“They realized I could care less about what they did to me.” His chest feels tight. He feels Sansa against him, and powers through.  “I wasn’t the only one they captured. There were others. They made me watch. It didn’t keep them from doing whatever they felt like to me, but seeing them hurt other people was the worst. I couldn’t take it. When they weren’t doing that, they locked me in this room. It reminded me of being in the hospital all those times.”

It’s why he’s claustrophobic. 

“I can’t believe you were put in the hospital.” 

“My Dad was worried,” Jon explains, “He didn’t know what else to do. I was a kid. I didn’t know how to process what had happened to me. I’m still figuring it out. I would say and do things that frightened him. He didn’t know what it was like to be shut up in there. He thought they were helping me. I wasn’t very receptive to their treatments, so they’d shove medication down my throat, and discharge me once I leveled out. I hated the way the medication made me feel. I hated being in that fog. He assumed I was taking it when I wasn’t. It would work until it all got too much for me to handle. Being locked away like that again, it brought me to a very bad place I hadn’t been for a very long time. I felt broken. I felt alone. I felt helpless.”

He didn’t know how to talk to a therapist.  He still doesn’t. 

“You aren’t any of those things.” 

“It’s easy to get stuck in that mindset once you’re in it.” Jon tells her. “There wasn’t anyone around who would tell me any different. I’ve only ever felt that isn’t who I am when I’m around you all. I tried to hold on to that. I promised you I wouldn’t give up. I kept that promise.”

Nestled up against his legs, Ghost rests his chin on Jon’s lap. 

“I still have your father’s knife.” Jon says softly. “It was strapped to my ankle that day. They never found it. I don’t know how they never found it. I hid it until...I had to use it. I’m not proud of what I had to do to survive. I tricked the guard into thinking I was having a seizure, and then once he was close enough I stabbed him. I was able to sneak around, find a computer, and let my team know where I was. When they came to rescue me, I was able to...get where I needed to, so they could rescue me. That knife saved my life, just like it saved his.”

Truth be told, it felt good to take a knife to every sick fuck that hurt him or anyone else. She didn’t need to know that. They are quiet for a bit, and they stay as they are, with her arms wrapped around him. Her warmth surrounds him, and he soaks it in. He hears everyone else go upstairs. 

“I never gave up.” Jon trembles, remembering. “You asked me not to. I promised I wouldn’t. So, if you’re questioning how important you are to me, that’s how important. You saved me. I looked at that knife, and I was able to hold on. I didn’t feel so alone. You mean the world to me. You mean more than the world to me.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us once you were rescued?” Sansa wonders. “We would have been there for you in a heartbeat.”

“I wasn’t exactly up for visitors.” Jon recalls. He still isn’t sure how he made it out of the compound alive. At the hospital, he found out exactly what his body had been through. He had a major infection, from his wounds going untreated. He had multiple, poorly healed fractures that had to be set. He was so malnourished it hurt to eat or even speak. It took time for him to heal. “I wasn’t myself. I didn’t particularly like who I was. It was difficult to be around anyone. Benjen wanted to tell you all, but I begged him not to. You shouldn’t be angry with him about that.”

“I’m upset with Uncle Benjen for not telling me you were missing in the first place.” 

“Fair enough.” Jon concedes. “His hands were tied, though.” 

She shrugs as they separate, and reaches for her tea. He’s lost her again. She might as well be in Dorne. Jon sips from his mug, but the warmth from the tea is not nearly as comforting as being held by Sansa. The silence is making him anxious, and he taps his fingers on his thigh. Ghost responds quickly, rising from the spot between them where he was laying. He licks Jon’s hand. 

“Good boy.” Jon says in a sing song voice reserved for praising Ghost, and pets him. “I’m okay.” 

“Are you?” Sansa wonders. “You haven’t seemed okay.” 

“Today was a bad day.” Jon continues to pet Ghost. “They’re not all like this. I know it isn’t an excuse, but a lot got thrown at me, and I didn’t handle it very well. It’s something I need to work on. I’ve been texting Qhorin. I’m going to meet with him more than I have been.” 

“Good.” Sansa nods between sips. He is unable to read her. “That’s good.” 

Ghost shakes, and leaves him to take a drink of some more water. Jon watches him for a moment, and then contemplates Sansa some more. She should never want to see him again, but here she is. He would not blame her at all, but she has heard him out. 

“Would you stay up with me for a bit?” He blurts out, regretting it immediately. He is just feeling really vulnerable, and doesn’t want to be alone. “I’ll understand if you’d rather not.” 

“I’ll stay up with you.” Sansa surprises him. “I’m not very tired. When we’re finished with the tea, we can watch a movie or something.” 

“I’d like that.” 

Twenty minutes into the film she suggests they watch, Sansa is asleep beside him. The draft from the windows behind the couch made the room cold, so she had wrapped them in a large quilt. There was a good amount space between them, but once she fell asleep she slowly snuggled up to him. Jon has never felt so content. So at peace. He considers waking her, but he selfishly wants to hold on to that feeling, and he crashes. After a few minutes, he drifts off with his feet up on the ottoman, and his head against Sansa’s. 

He is woken by Rickon pushing his feet off of the ottoman. The sun is shining through the windows, so it has to be hours later. 

“There are two perfectly good beds upstairs.” Rickon stares at him, and Jon pushes the quilt off to sit up. 

“We fell asleep.” 

“All cuddled up underneath a blanket.” Rickon scoffs, not believing him for a second. “I don’t like this.” 

“No one is asking you to.” 

“You’re a real prick.” Rickon tells him. “Making her cry like that. I’m really angry about it.” 

“Are you sure that’s all you’re angry with me about?” Jon asks, knowing it may also have to do with the fact that he hasn’t bothered to spend time with Rickon in years. Rickon is right. He’s a real prick. 

Rickon’s mouth twitches, and his eyes are sad. He frowns at Jon. “You said you would visit. You haven’t been back since you left. We haven’t seen you since we went to Fort Black for your graduation.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Rickon shrugs, and storms out of the room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. Sansa went from not wanting to be around him, to comforting him. They also have an actual conversation, and no one yells. I’m so proud of them. 
> 
> I love Brandon, Robb, and Rickon. Hell, I love them all. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. We’re getting into the fluffier part of the story.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry I’m a bit of a deadbeat author. I promise I’m going to finish this. It means a whole lot to me. I LOVE THIS CHAPTER. That is all. I hope you do too.

Sansa tosses the blanket away. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“No.” Jon keeps her from standing to follow Rickon. “If he wanted to talk, he would. He’s allowed to be angry with me. Just like you are.” 

“You never wanted to talk about any of your feelings.” Sansa reminds him. “How’d that work out?” 

“Terribly.” Jon admits. “Trying to force him to won’t turn out any better.” 

“I worry about him.”

“I worry about him too.” Jon sighs. She knows it’s true. Jon has always been very protective of Rickon. Maybe it’s the similar, awful circumstances they have been handed in their young lives. It forged a bond, and Rickon missed him when he moved. “You can encourage him to open up, but it’s his choice.” 

She has no interest in arguing with Jon. She’s still reeling from the day before. She’s still very angry about it all. It was not how she wanted to begin a new year. She was able to put her own hurt aside last night, for the sake of gaining some insight into Jon. She doesn’t respond, and he leads Ghost out of the room. Her phone rings on the table beside her, and she answers it. 

“Hey,” Gilly sounds uncomfortable, calling to check up on her. Sansa is sure of it. “Samwell just informed me that Jon was a bit of a cad. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“I was going to ask you if you want to go shopping with me.” Gilly tells her. “I need a dress for The Watch’s anniversary ball. I’d really appreciate your help finding one. I’ll understand if you don’t want to.” 

“I would love to!” It would be a welcomed distraction. Gilly probably thinks it will upset her that she isn’t going to the ball with Jon, but she honestly doesn’t care. Of all the disappointments in her life, it ranks pretty low in comparison. She doubts Jon will even go. “I’m in Winterfell, though.” 

“We can go when you get back.” Gilly suggests. “There’s time. The ball isn’t until the end of the month.” 

“The dorms open again next week.” She hears Gilly and Sam bicker. 

“Have you heard from Jon?” Gilly sounds annoyed. “Sam is concerned.”

“Jon is here.” Sansa shares. “He’s fine.” 

“Did you hear that, Sam?” Gilly snaps at her boyfriend. “Jon is fine! He’s with Sansa, so you can quit worrying about him. Wait, he’s there? You’re okay with that?” 

“There isn’t much I can do about it.”

“Sure there is.” Gilly argues. “If you really want to.” 

“So, when I’m back at Queenscrown we’ll go shopping.” 

“You can ignore what I said all you want, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” 

“I’m not ignoring it.” Sansa huffs. “I’m changing the subject.” 

Jon is back, reeking of cigarette smoke. He sits on the couch, Ghost at his feet. 

“We can talk about it when we go shopping.” Gilly decides, and their conversation ends shortly after. 

“How’s Gilly?” Jon wonders. How he guessed she had been talking to Gilly, is a mystery. 

“She thinks you’re a bit of a cad.” 

“She isn’t wrong.” 

“She needs help finding a dress for the anniversary ball.” 

“Sam’s bringing Gilly?” Jon laughs, but she gets the sense that it isn’t all that funny. “I hope she knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“I think the idea is to have a nice time with her boyfriend.” 

“The idea.” Jon nods. “In reality, there’s a lot of us who joined right out of high school. We haven’t had those college years to cut loose. We rarely get to act our age, some of us compensate a bit when we do. Edd got married last year, and his fiancé was not well prepared. We can be a lot.” 

“She won’t care.” Sansa shakes her head. “She’s going to spend time with Sam.” 

“I’m just saying.” 

“Will you go?”

“I’m undecided at the moment.” Jon pets Ghost, and looks up at her. “Why? Would want to go with me?” 

“I’m not sure I want to go anywhere with you right now.” 

She is still very confused about her feelings for Jon. She is torn between giving him all the love and happiness he doesn’t think he deserves, and staying the hell away from him. It’s difficult to figure out with him sitting right in front of her, looking all sad and vulnerable.

“Then why bring it up?” 

“You asked me how Gilly is.” Sansa sighs. “That’s what she called me about.”

“Yikes, it’s awkward in here.” Arya leans against the doorway, sipping from a mug. “Do either of you know what has Rickon all upset?” 

“The consensus is I’m a cad.” 

“Well, even cads need to eat.” Arya shrugs. “There’s food in the room we eat food in.” 

“Right, the one with the big table.” Jon nods, making Sansa laugh a little. Arya backs out into the hallway, and they’re alone. He’s staring at her again. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened the other night?”

“You didn’t want to talk about it.” Sansa reminds him, folding the blanket. “You wanted to forget it ever happened.” 

“I don’t think I can.”

“Do not do that.” Sansa warns him. “Do not screw with my head more than you already have.” 

“I can’t help it.” Jon shrugs, and she holds back the tears stinging her eyes. She is done crying about it. 

“I’m going to need you to try.” 

“Yesterday, you were upset because I said I wanted to forget.” Jon gripes. “Today, you want me to. Which is it? Make up your mind!” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” 

“Then do it!” 

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Insecure, I’m going to need you to take it down a notch.” Brandon begs them. “I haven’t even finished my first cup of coffee yet.” 

“Are you implying that I would marry him?” Sansa glares at her uncle. He gives her a look that tells her the answer to that question has been painfully obvious for years. 

“You could do a lot worse.” Jon gets snippy, and she does not have the patience for it. 

“I could do a lot better.”

“Please, go eat.” Brandon tells them. “Your blood sugars sound low.” 

“Oh, go drink your coffee.” Sansa rolls her eyes. “We aren’t stopping you.” 

“Jonathan, keep that voice down.” Brandon reminds him, shaking his head.

“I will if she does.”

“Final warning.” 

“I’ll try to pretend it never happened.” Jon promises sadly once Brandon has left the room. “If that’s what you need me to do.”

“It is.” Sansa sighs. “Please.” 

“Okay.” 

Jon nods, and she follows him into dining room. The only seats her family has left open are next to each other. She’ll remember this. It’s blissfully quiet, but she can feel Rickon’s eyes on them. 

“Something you’d like to say, Rick?” Jon asks, scooping food onto his plate. 

“There’s a lot I’d like to say.” Rickon sneers, dropping his fork to his plate with attitude.  

“Say it.” 

“I can’t be the only one bothered by this.” He is hoping for support from his other siblings and uncle. “You all saw how upset she was last night, and it was because of him. She’s still upset. Sansa...”

“That is between Sansa and Jon.” 

“He’s only here because he wants to do that with her again.” Rickon growls. “He doesn’t care about any of us. He’ll hurt you again, Sansa. It’s all he’s done since he joined The Watch! I’ve noticed! I remember when you found out. I saw how sad you were when he left, and I’ve seen how disappointed you are every time he isn’t here. It isn’t okay!” 

It breaks her heart, because she knows it is also how Rickon felt when Jon left. His sadness about Jon not being there turned to bitterness.

“She doesn’t want to talk about it.” Jon says in her silence, upsetting Rickon even more. 

“Do not speak for her.” Rickon slams his hands down on the table. Sansa has never seen him this worked up. “Go ahead, and try me! I’ll kick you in the balls so hard, you’ll spit them out your mouth.” 

“That is enough.” Brandon stops him. “Don’t say balls at this table.” 

“Should I say testicles?” Rickon wonders. “Scrotum?”

“Crotch nuggets?” Bran suggests with a laugh, trying to ease the tension.

“Bean bags?” Arya offers, taking a bite from her fork.

Brandon lowers his head, and sips his coffee. “None of the above.” 

“What should we call them, Sansa?” Rickon brings her damn near close to full panic. “You’ve seen them.” 

She is unable to speak. She’s horribly embarrassed. So is Jon. Thankfully, Robb intercedes. 

“That isn’t anyone’s business.” 

“They were yelling about their business on the porch!” 

“That was regrettable,” Robb agrees with him, “but leave them alone.” 

“I will.” Rickon pushes away from the table. His chair tips over when he stands. He has no intention of picking it up. “Let me know when he leaves again.” 

It isn’t any less awkward once Rickon is gone, and she actually wishes everyone weren’t so quiet. 

Once the roads are clear, Jon is on his way back to Fort Black. 

She reads on the window seat in her room, attempting to sort through everything on her mind. 

Jon respects her space. She doesn’t hear from him until she’s dress shopping with Gilly. He texts her about something she’d normally find funny. It is so random. Like nothing ever happened. Like they’ve been talking to each other this entire time. 

“I cannot believe him.” Sansa groans, ignoring his message, and putting her phone back in her purse. 

“Jon?”

“Who else?”

“What did he say?” Gilly wonders, searching through the colorful dresses on the rack.

“It is so stupid!” She is aggravated, but she also knows that before anything happened, she would have found the humor in his message. She pulls her phone back out to show Gilly. “He hasn’t said anything to me in over a week, and that’s what he says?!”  

“I think he misses you, and he didn’t know what to say.” 

When Gilly puts it that way, it’s kind of adorable. She gives an outrageous amount of thought to whether or not she should reply, and what she should reply. After much inner conflict, and having Gilly read her reply before she sends it, she sends a reply with her heart racing. 

From that point on, they’re suddenly texting each other all the time. She starts calling him after her last class of the day, and he starts calling her during his lunch break. She looks forward to talking to him, and hearing his voice. They discuss meeting up to see each other, but their schedules make it difficult. It is decided that they will go to the anniversary ball together. 

Sansa becomes more excited about going with Jon than anything in a long time. She finds a dress that will complement his uniform, and shoes that will complement her dress. Silver, sparkly shoes. 

She gets ready at Gilly’s apartment, and is finishing her makeup when their dates arrive. Jon’s entire face lights up when she joins them in the living room. She has seen him in his uniform before, but he is especially handsome smiling at her. 

“I like your dress...” He tells her, and she can see it in his eyes as he takes her in. There are some serious butterflies in her stomach by the time he hugs her, “...and your shoes.” 

“Thank you.” She’s sure she has the dumbest smile on her face. She’d hoped he would appreciate what she had chosen.

“You look beautiful.” He whispers, softly kissing her cheek. 

They ride to the venue with Sam and Gilly, and Jon squeezes her hand in the back seat. 

He escorts her, arm in arm, into the room where the cocktail hour is being held. It’s meant to be a time to mingle with everyone else who is attending the ball, but it’s making Jon uncomfortable. He’s withdrawn, and he has that sullen look on his face. His demeanor has completely changed.

“Are you okay?” She follows his eyes to the bar. 

“I haven’t been to one of these sober.” Jon sighs. “I’m having a hard time. The bar is calling my name, and it’s exhausting to have to keep telling it to shut the fuck up.” 

“You’re also not one for small talk, so this entire situation must be miserable for you.” 

“It’s easier when I can tell myself I’ve done this sober before, I can do it again.” 

“You’ve been sober around me plenty of times.” Sansa reminds him. “Sam, and all the others as well.” 

“You know there were also plenty of times I wasn’t sober around you.” Jon is ashamed. “You were on my case about it enough. I was drinking before I moved to Torrhen Square, Sansa. It wasn’t anything new. It was like a security blanket. An old friend. I didn’t have it all those months I was close to dead in Hardhome. They had plenty of other stuff for me, though. In the hospital, too. Some of it was even better than being drunk. You can get it out of your system, but the reasons you’re drawn to it are still there. That’s what I have to work on.” 

The extent of his addictions frightens her, but she also really appreciates his honesty. She isn’t sure what to say. She is afraid to sound harsh or unsupportive.

“If you need to leave...”

“As much as I’d like to, I shouldn’t avoid every little thing that makes me uncomfortable.” Jon forces a smile. “I need to learn to be okay with being uncomfortable.” 

“Let me know what I can do.” 

“We could get our picture taken.” Jon suggests, flourishing toward the line Sam and Gilly are waiting in. “We could frame it, and give it to Rickon.” 

“That isn’t funny.” Sansa smacks his arm. “You should spend some time with them all when I’m not around. It would show him you do care.” 

“I’ll talk to Robb.” Jon agrees, calmer. 

They get in line to have their picture taken, and time passes quickly. The shock on Benjen’s face when he sees her is quite enjoyable. She could have warned him that she would be attending as Jon’s guest, but it all happened so suddenly. She also hadn’t wanted to deprive herself of his reaction. 

“You didn’t tell him you’d be here?” Jon smirks, watching Benjen.

“He didn’t tell me you were missing.” Sansa shrugs. “I’m allowed to be petty.” 

“You Starks can hold a grudge.” 

They get their picture taken, and Benjen greets them cordially before dinner. There is an edge to his voice. Sansa doesn’t care. They’re seated at a table with Jon’s team, and he is noticeably more comfortable. Until Sansa becomes the topic of conversation. 

“You were at Gilly’s party.” Owen recognizes her, and Jon makes a face. 

“It is her!” Pyp laughs. “I wanted to ask, but the last time I tried to talk about her, Jon threatened to throat punch me.” 

“Sansa Stark.” She introduces herself to the team members she hasn’t met. 

“Stark?” 

“Seven hells, Snow.” Owen cringes, and turns to Sansa. “Are you Benjen’s daughter?”

“I’m his niece,” Sansa answers, “and I’ve known Jon since before he enlisted.” 

Once that it out of the way, and curiosity is satisfied, things go a lot more smoothly. Dinner is served, and speeches are made. The dance floor is opened, and a few of the guys make their way over to the bar. Sansa leads Jon out onto the dance floor. 

He isn’t very graceful, and his hands are all awkward. 

“Jonathan Snow, did I not teach you how to dance all those years ago?” She japes, placing his hand on her hip. “This hand goes here.” 

“Being this close makes it very hard to behave myself.” Jon blushes, and Sansa guides him. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you misbehaved a bit.” She runs her hand down his back, and hears him take in a sharp breath. 

“You wouldn’t?”

“Public displays of affection are frowned upon while you’re in uniform, though.” Sansa teases him, and he narrows his eyes. 

“It’s easy enough to take off.” Jon pinches her side, and she briefly stumbles before he holds her up. 

“It’s the public part that’s presenting the problem right now.” Sansa sneaks a quick kiss on his bearded cheek. 

“I’ll call a cab.” Jon offers with a smirk. “Should I call a cab?”

“Don’t you dare!” Sansa tightens her hold on his shoulder. “We’re at a proper ball. You’re looking damn good in that uniform. I’m wearing a fancy dress, and sparkly shoes. We’re not leaving.” 

“Okay.” 

“Not that I don’t want to,” Sansa clarifies, “but I don’t think we should rush into anything right now.”

“You said you wouldn’t mind if I misbehaved.” Jon pouts. “You are so confusing.” 

“A bit!” Sansa groans. “I said a bit. Sneak a kiss. Cop a feel while we’re dancing. I don’t think anyone will give you a hard time for that. You have us taking a cab to get naked ASAP.” 

“I’ll pump the breaks.” 

“Thank you.” Sansa smiles when he spins her. “You can understand my reservations after how poorly the last time turned out.”

“Poorly?” 

“You think the part when you freaked and threw me out into a snowstorm went well?” 

“I offered you a ride.” Jon mumbles. “Before I freaked was pretty great.” 

“It was.” 

“I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“It’s just going to take some time.” 

His expression is intense and thoughtful. She’s pretty sure he’s staring at her lips. “Is it alright if I sneak a kiss?”

“It is.” 

He lifts her chin with his fingers, and kisses her. It’s quick, but also soft and affectionate. It makes her wish she had agreed to him calling a cab. “If Uncle Benjen saw that, you are so fired.”

“It was modest enough, and I doubt the consequences are that severe, but that would mean I wouldn’t have to go to Braavos.” Jon jokes. It isn’t funny. It’s in poor taste. “Sorry.” 

She supposes she should accept his inevitable deployment, but she was enjoying herself. “Do you know when yet?”

“Nothing official.” Jon shakes his head. “It’s looking like around your birthday, though.”

“What does The damn Watch have against the day I was born?” Sansa wonders dramatically. “Honestly.”

“I’ll try to push for after.” 

“You’re sweet.” Sansa tells him. “I know there isn’t much you can do about it.” 

Finding a time machine, and never enlisting would be nice. So would Qhorin saying Jon was unfit for deployment, but he wouldn’t want to leave his team hanging like that.

“I wish there was.” 

“We can always celebrate it early.” Sansa accepts. “Make the most of the time we have. We’ll talk about it more once you know when you’ll be deploying.” 

“I’m really glad you’re here with me.” 

“Me too.” She holds him a little closer, and the song they are dancing to ends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore these dumb babies.  
> One of the first things I planned about this fic was Sansa going to a military ball with Jon. In case you’re wondering, they 100% do take awkward prom pictures at them. I’ll cherish mine forever. Our kids will make fun of them and our actual prom pictures. They’re welcome.  
> SO, this was always the plan. Remember how before everything went to hell in King’s Landing there was supposed to be a ball? Sansa finally got to wear her sparkly shoes to a ball, and dance with Jon. I’m emo about it.


End file.
